Yuma

We Say...

Review by Andrew Mueller

Justin Townes Earle originally released Yuma, his 2007 debut, on his own label, principally to give himself something to sell to crowds after gigs. It's not difficult, however, to understand why Bloodshot thought it deserved a wider hearing — or why they retained Earle for 2008's accomplished The Good Life. It isn't just the impeccable pedigree (Earle is Steve Earle's son, and a onetime member of his father¹s touring band, The Dukes): Yuma would still have attracted impressed attention had it been recorded by someone called Smith.

The six tracks on Yuma have a ruggedness that attest to the project's self-financed nature, but that approach suits the songs; the sparse instrumentation and one-take recording lend them a fraught, claustrophobic intimacy — evocative of, say, Uncle Tupelo's March 16-20, 1992. That Earle aspires to the lineage of the great country singers is obvious;¬ the opening track, "The Ghost Of Virginia," is about a train, but Earle manages to tip his hat to his predecessors without descending into po-faced genuflection. The brief "I Don't Care" is a lovely hobo's lament which nods at Geoff Mack's "I've Been Everywhere." "You Can't Leave" is a brilliant, blearily witty update on Merle Haggard's booby-trapped lyricism ("'Cos I ain't letting go of you," threatens the refrain).

Earle is no mere pastiche-monger, though. The title track of Yuma hints at his immense promise. It's a densely written talking blues, comparable with the very finest of Todd Snider. That surname and middle name of his amounts to a mighty long, dark shadow, but Earle has all he needs to escape it.