Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Josh Niles at Big Light, Nashville, Tennessee
Shawn Camp sings about people in a way that makes them seem as if they're legendary. They are shown in the kinds of light that make them famous for just being themselves, for attempting to win a few of their battles, always hoping that the war is going to be shorter than everyone warns them it's going to be.
They're knocking around during cold nights, with their drinks, their cigarettes and their chilly beds, but they're never tempted to let it all sink them. They are being good people - those with their demons, but with those proverbial gold hearts that make the demons feel more like tolerable characters. They are raising families and chasing love. They are telling takes, with their smoked out throats and their wry smiles. They have firm handshakes and they always tell you that they love you when you part. They are the salt of the earth and they're always missed when they're gone. They make all kinds of mistakes, as he sings that the girl with the tears in her cowboy boots is on the, "Right side of wrong/Wrong side of gone." She's got the bruises and the scars, but she's not giving up that she'll fall in love again and some cowboy will take her home. It feels like an epic journey.
The love found in "Fallen Star Saloon," is again by chance and dumb luck, caught by two wandering souls who find each other down and out in a beaten up bar, splitting tips at the end of the night. Camp, a Nashville songwriter, writes beauty into every speck of heartache he finds. He makes it all sparkle with that tired eye, slow-moving appreciation of people who have been there and taken plenty of standing eight counts, but always stagger back to their feet for another go of it.