Zoloft, Lexapro, Wellbutrin — they’ve made us pills to get through wintertime. But Gregory Alan Isakov disagrees in the title track of his first record in five years: “Appaloosa Bones.”
“They haven’t made no pill / To get us ’cross the wintertime / Tell time by the walls / Watch the shadows fall,” he sings.
Isakov doesn’t really exist in the same world as antidepressants. His songs make listeners feel like they’re in some sort of timeless sonic prairie, far away from everything bad in the world and yet still haunted by it. “Appaloosa Bones” is no different than his past five albums in creating this effect, and that’s the best thing about it.
Isakov rose to fame with his 2009 record “This Empty Northern Hemisphere” and the star single “Big Black Car,” which has found its way into every indie movie since then. The Boulder farmer spends most of the year on his land, his crops ending up on local tables, in nearby restaurants, and in soup kitchens. In the winter, he sets off on tours across the country, most of the time in familiar cities at venues who know him as a friend at this point.
“Appaloosa Bones” contains Isakov’s usual mix of melancholy and warmth. Tracks like “Silver Bell” and “One Day” uplift the album, Isakov’s somber vocals being elevated by his vibrant and layered instrumentals which always sound like they were recorded in the world’s most high-tech barn.
“One Day” is a perfect Isakov-ian lesson in the ebbs and flows of the natural world, themes that ground most of his work. He notes that just as the seasons change, mountains will fall, fires will die out, and the rain will eventually bury him and his lover. The song sounds like a fairytale would, and yet is a lesson in mortality.
It is tracks like the second-to-last one on the album, “Sweet Heat Lightning,” that ground the project as a whole. With only two brief verses and a chorus, the song is unassuming in the dominant role it plays with the record. The first verse introduces grief with Isakov noting that his mother’s house is empty now, asking his partner to come and try to find him. Much like life’s most unexpected moments, the chorus rings, “Sweet heat lightning falls / Blue crack of light and that’s all.”
“Sweet Heat Lightning” ends with an invitation to his partner to drive away with him and see what happens. It implies an exodus from youth and naivety being consoled by a new sense of love and hope for the future. This is what Isakov does best: illustrating melancholia while pulling the threads of hope that pull us forward.
“Appaloosa Bones” is yet another stellar album to add to Isakov’s discography. And although it is much of the same as his past releases, Isakov is one of those artists who you don’t want to dramatically change. It’s somber but forever hopeful, granting listeners yet another opportunity to sit with life as the terrain is shifting all around them. It doesn’t really matter which pills get us through wintertime, so long as there are songwriters like Isakov who are around to console us.