CHRIS JONES & THE NIGHT DRIVERS
Lonely Comes Easy
Rebel 1847

www.rebelrecords.com
 

There is a healthy and longstanding tradition of country and bluegrass musicians doubling as radio DJs and becoming as widely known for their ability to talk knowledgeably about the records they spin as for their own music. From the ‘40s through the ‘70s, country stars like Wayne Raney in Cincinnati and Lee Moore (aka the “Coffee Drinkin’ Nighthawk”) in Wheeling, West Virginia were all-night, clear channel companions to generations of truckers (we’ll get back to the truckers in a minute), and modern-day WSM Nashville standby Eddie Stubbs first gained renown as the fiddler for the highly regarded ‘80s traditional bluegrass revivalist band the Johnson Mountain Boys. Satellite radio is perhaps the ultimate “clear channel,” and most of the thousands who listen to Chris Jones as one of the hosts of Sirius XM’s popular “Bluegrass Junction” probably also know him as one of the genre’s premier singers and songwriters of the past quarter-century, and his previous recordings, solo and with his longtime band the Night Drivers, have been consistently excellent.

Their latest release, Lonely Comes Easy is no exception, and the title hints at the reason why: heartache and loneliness have been the grist for countless thousands of songs across centuries of human existence, and it’s hard anymore to write about them without tripping over the clichés, yet Jones continues to dodge them and produce compelling material such as the title track about a man who “never lock(s) the door” anymore. It works well as bluegrass, but it’s the kind of song you can easily hear the late George Jones (no relation) singing in your mind. It also helps reinforce the writing when your bass player (Jon Weisberger) is a recent IBMA Songwriter of the Year recipient, and four of the thirteen tracks are co-written by him. Jones collaborates once again with Tom T. Hall and his (Hall’s) wife, Dixie on “Where I Am”, a comfortable tune that simply and eloquently says that it’s okay to just want to be comfortable. As a tribute to Doc Watson, Jones includes “Wake Up Little Maggie”, which stands out as an example of the idea that sometimes less is more.

Finally, lest it seem that Jones dwells too much on the sober, lonesome side of things, for the closing track he reaches back some forty years to the heyday of the “trucker song” era, mixes his low baritone as far down toward the bass end as he can get it, and has a lot of fun (with Claire Lynch and Sierra Hull joining in) on C. W. McCall’s “Wolf Creek Pass”. Somewhere, Red Sovine is smiling.

— John Lupton