Caleb Caudle may have been dealt a handful of aces, but he
has chosen an opportune moment to play them in the shape of a fabulous new
album. CRUSHED COINS scores high on a number of fronts, even to the extent of
the ironed out imperfections suggesting not all great albums need an edge of
vulnerability. What this North Carolinian singer-songwriter has done is take
the basic sound ingredients of steel, keys and strings before adding in an
articulate lyrical element to tear away the layers of primal emotion. A
sophisticated mellowness wraps each one of the eleven tracks and delivers them
to the listener with an extra coating of enticing melodies. This is song
writing of the highest degree, blessed with an acute offering of leading the
listener into the thought process without truly planting explicit ideas. This
is best exemplified in the title track right at the core of the record with ‘Crushed Coins’ leaving its message open
to interpretation, although within the recurring line of ‘there’s no laughter
in this house’.
Every great album needs a track to reflect its level of
accomplishment and Caudle achieves that early in the proceedings with the sublime
‘NYC in the Rain’. Dressed in the
robes of delightful pedal steel, this song explodes with the most gorgeous of
chorus melodies as the message of not finding the Big Apple the most agreeable
place to live in pours out. In an alternate bygone age where confined media
could spawn monster worldwide hits, this would compete hard. However, back to
the reality of the present and it will still battle valiantly to find its niche
in this fragmented media age. Most importantly, it will be trumpeted here for
the near future.
CRUSHED COINS does defy one normal rule of a blueprint great
album often applied here in the strategic placing of a dominant opening track.
‘Lost Without You’ acts more as a
scene setter in terms of its moderate tempo and introductory tendencies
signalling that the content is likely to get deep. What did impress, and will
further excite song writing structure junkies, is the way the circle is
completed with the title of the opener doubling up as the final line of the
closer. ‘Until It’s Over’ heralds a
finishing point bordering the fine line between premature and optimum, while in
low key acoustic mode to suggest that Caudle is content that the job is done.
In between the moderate book-ended tracks, are a wealth of
song writing peaks, all pushing the aforementioned soaring standout song. ‘Six Feet From The Flowers’ leads the way in all its tear jerking glory
starting with the poignant opening ‘They said it would get easier/They don’t
know a thing.’ Throughout the record, the writing toys with the idea of loss
and the importance of holding on, eventually leading to a climax of what life
is really like when dusk fades.
If you seek the record at its most positive then ‘Love That’s Wild’ will oblige. Some
wonderful pedal steel forms the intro and a late solo, while lyrically the song
gets to grips with exclaiming ‘what’s important’ from the rooftops. The message
gets a touch unclear in ‘Headlights’,
but thought provoking moments can be endearing features of albums that resonate
with an intuitive listener. Either way, evocative steel rules the sound
spectrum, and like so much of the album, the ease of an outstanding chorus
smooths the path.
This album does not really court any genre loyalty. Country
traits are prevalent to the extent that ‘The
Way You Oughta Be Seen’ can be imagined as a sentimental piece with a 70s
throwback sound. Americana will make a claim based on the sophisticated
approach and more than the occasional nod to elements of roots tradition,
although this is far from the definitive angle. Any country links can be
countered by a very metropolitan feel; probably more at home in the coffee shop
culture than a dingy bar. Sadly, the word ‘elite’ has been commandeered by the
populist antagonists as a derogatory term, but when it returns to its rightful
place as a true podium of excellence then applying the tag to this release will
not be hesitated.
Back to the tracks,
and the somewhat different feel to ‘Empty
Arms’ with its scratchy guitar opening and more conventional use of
electric in a later solo phase. ‘Madelyn’
appears in the latter stages of the running order and takes the sound in a more
roots direction with the injection of fiddle. Like so many of the songs, the
lyrics are a major source of enjoyable scouring, thus revealing many clever nuances.
The writing arrives at its most figurative in ‘Stack of Tomorrows’ to re-affirm the desired trait of
interpretation being invited rather than explicitly planted.
