(New West)
By Sean Moeller

Alabama’s Drive-By Truckers can be a lot of things to a person. They can be that one band that bridges someone’s favorite cry of, “I listen to anything. Yeah, anything but country,” with the corner pieces of a budding affinity for Merle Haggard and the chronicles of Waylon Jennings. You listen to enough of “The Dirty South” (not as crunk as you might think, but singer Patterson Hood’s told me in interviews that the band done loves its hip-hop) and “Pizza Deliverance” and pretty soon, before you know it, you’ve got the whole sky put together, the grass is filling in and the jigsaw – or the path to Nashville/Muscle Shoals appreciation in this analogy – is nearly complete.

The Truckers become that band that you throw on when the sun breaks through a grim spring day and you feel the birds wake up inside of you, making you just want to drive with the windows rolled down and something loud and somewhat bitter barreling out of the system. The Truckers become the band that you play after a funeral service because if anyone knows suffering and sorrow, it’s these three wise men – Hood, Mike Cooley and Jason Isbell. The Truckers become a band that you go hot and heavy on, displaying repulsion and disgust to anyone unfamiliar with “Decoration Day” and “My Sweet Annette,” one of the most justifiably endearing left-at-the-altar songs you’ll ever hear. The Drive-By Truckers are the everything bagel, the casserole and the chef’s surprise.

“A Blessing And A Curse” takes this title and its title to heart, accomplishing what its forebears did with the same sort of rusty, booze house mannerisms. You’re taken back into that hole-in-the-wall saloon, pinned off to the side of a gravel road somewhere in between the nearest neighbor, the livestock and the general store – I’m thinking of a much less jovial, smokier, darker and most depressing Boar’s Nest, to give an accurate mental picture – and sitting at a dimly lit bar with just the tender in the place, you spill some demons right out there with the Jack and Coke. If you’re looking for songs that you’d never want to play at your wedding reception, look no further. We’re talking sad and doomed relationships, unfortunate deaths for young children and crises that usually result in manic depression. Cooley’s “Gravity’s Gone,” the second track on “Blessing” is the cornerstone to this exceptional new batch of songs, sounding in the intro like The Eagles’ “Take It Easy” guitars and then blowing the porch off when my favorite Trucker Cooley shoots into the first verse like a fucking piston, laying out a tale of recognized agony. When he sings, ” Between the champagne hand jobs and the kissing ass by everyone involved/Cocaine rich comes quick and that’s why the small dicks have it all/So I’ll meet you at the bottom if there really is one/They always told me when you hit it you’ll know it/But I’ve been falling so long it’s like gravity’s gone and I’m just floating,” you can’t help but feel his heavy thoughts and wish you could slide another Bud heavy down to him at the other end of the bar – on you – and maybe even offer him a light for his cig and a cheer-up-man slap on the back.

Hood’s “Feb. 14” is a Valentine’s Day gone wrong and his late album “Little Bonnie” is a lament on a young girl’s death—which her father feels guilty about and which makes it so a grandmother can’t read her stories about little girls with magic powers and princesses. Isbell’s “Easy On Yourself” and “Daylight” – a pretty pop song that pushes the sullen remorse and beautiful loathing away to the sides just for a second – are easy winners.

I love that feeling bad can feel so good. As Hood sings in “A World of Hurt,” “The secret to a happy ending is knowing when to roll the credits,” you gladly appreciate that the Truckers haven’t got a clue when to motion to the projectionist.

www.drivebytruckers.com