Jason Isbell is the Songwriter the South Needs
If music is storytelling, Isbell’s haunting songs are a world I want to visit
A few weeks ago, my wife and I watched Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit perform at SunTrust Park after an Atlanta Braves game. The concert was rescheduled from an earlier rainout, and the Braves had just blown a late lead to the Colorado Rockies in a disappointing extra-innings finish. The end result was that most of the people who stuck around for the concert that began around 11:00 pm were more interested in finishing their beer than hearing Isbell perform. This was my second time watching him sing, and the contrast between the sold-out concert hall in Birmingham and the 4/5s empty stadium in suburban Atlanta was jarring.
If he was jarred though, Isbell didn’t show it. He cracked a few jokes about Chipper Jones, about being mistaken for Matthew Stafford in Athens, and about how his daughter mispronounces the names of the Braves’ best players. Most importantly though, he played song after song from his extensive catalog, reminding the few fans who actually knew his music why a chance to see Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit live is never worth passing up. Despite the crowd’s general apathy, it was an excellent experience.
This introduction is a long-winded way of getting to this point: Jason Isbell is one of the best songwriters I’ve ever heard, and perhaps the best. His instrumental work is always excellent, but his lyrics are what make his music exceptional. It doesn’t hurt that I grew up in the South — the subject of much of his songs — but I think that his music is relatable to anyone who is interested in stories and people. Whether its an introspective look at Southern racism, a love song written to his wife, or wistful nostalgia for trees in Alabama, every song Isbell writes is thoughtful, careful, and beautiful.
Stories
For many Jason Isbell songs, I find myself wondering what percentage of the lyrics are autobiographical. In a story by Rob Harvilla of the Ringer, Isbell revealed that many of his songs are written from viewpoints that aren’t necessarily his own. In other words, he creates semi-fictional characters that permeate the words of his impressive catalog. Howeer, it’s also clear that many of his songs are lifted in part from his own life and experiences. And since Isbell is a master singer and songwriter, it can be hard to tell the difference.
Regardless of whether he’s singing about fictional, real, or somewhere-in-between characters, Isbell’s songs are filled with storytelling mastery and poignant lyrics. It’s often difficult to explain why good lyrics are good, but in his case the simplest explanation is that he never wastes a single word. Isbell carefully picks each syllable and phrase, fine-tuning them to fit the characters and stories he creates.
One of Isbell’s best songs, “Cover Me Up” off 2013’s Southeastern, shows how carefully he picks each word. The verses of the song cover his tumultuous early career, including his bout with alcoholism, while the choruses are a simple declaration of love for his wife. And while the lyrics themselves elevate this song to impressive heights, Isbell’s delivery, accompanied by the minimalist instrumentation, is what makes this song one of the best I’ve ever heard. I’ve seen this song live twice, and it’s been a remarkable experience each time.
Honesty
The title of this post isn’t that Jason Isbell is a talented songwriter (he is), though, it’s that he’s the songwriter the South needs. In a region of the country that’s musically known for vapid, empty pop/country songs, Isbell’s music stands out because of his total willingness to sing about his own flaws and ability to pinpoint the best and worst parts of the region he grew up in. “Alabama Pines,” is a beautiful and nostalgic song about his home state, one filled with specific references that only people from there will understand. “White Man’s World” is far less positive, a brutal examination of the racism that has marked this region for so long.
Even though there’s a bitterness to some of his songs, there’s also an undeniable hope to many of them as well. Take, for example, the final two tracks off of 2017’s The Nashville Sound. “Hope the High Road” proclaims, “I’ve heard enough of the white man’s blues/I’ve sang enough about myself/So if you’re looking for some bad news/You can find it somewhere else.” Minutes later in the tracklist, Isbell closes the album by reflecting on his background with music, on “Something You Love.” I was born in a tiny southern town/I grew up with all my family around/We made music on the porch on Sunday nights/Old men with old guitars smoking Winston Lights.”
I could list more of Isbell’s songs and their topics, but the point I’m trying to make is that his music is filled with an openness and honesty that music as a whole (and Southern music, in particular) lacks. I’ve spent my whole life in Alabama and Georgia, and I long for more music that feels like it truly represents these states (and those around them). I truly cannot stand the country music that dominates the radio and Spotify charts, but I can and have listened to Isbell for hours. There’s so much in the South to sing about, and Isbell does it better than anyone else.
It’s always difficult to explain in written words why a certain band, album, or song is so good. As with any artist I recommend, the best way to experience what they have to offer is to find their music and listen to it, and the same is true with Isbell. He’s an extremely talented musician, and I wish more were like him.
