What on earth is a tumee, and why is Tim McGraw trying to pull it?
That was but one of the questions that my younger self had about “One of These Days.” It hit the radio during my freshman year in college. As a transplanted New Yorker studying in Tennessee, I couldn’t understand why my friends were flipping out about how powerful this song was.
I got the hype through the first and second verse, but it lost me in the third act. I actually thought he was getting married. After a few years down south, my Catholic self gradually learned the meaning of this very Baptist song. If this was my life story, I would’ve just gone to confession after these personal failings.
I’ve never been one to make evaluative judgments on denominations and faiths other than my own. If somebody else is taking a different path to God, I hope they have a meaningful journey and that we meet up at a shared destination.
But I will say one thing. If you’re looking to close a three act song with a dramatic resolution, ”born again” is the way to go.
Written by Marcus Hummon, Monty Powell, and Kip Raines
If you had a friend who was a tightrope walker, and you were walking down a sidewalk, and he fell, that would be completely unacceptable. – Mitch Hedberg
Emotional Traffic is a collection of poor choices.
First and foremost, the material is shockingly weak. Yes, McGraw has been slowly slipping over the last couple of albums, but the bottom has completely fallen out here.
Take a song like “Right Back Atcha Babe”, for example. It’s a hodgepodge of little details in the same vein as “Something Like That,” but none of them are believable. And why are they having the conversation anyway? It’s not like they’ve suddenly run into each other after a really long time. Why is he recapping the events like he’s got to get her caught up before this week’s episode?
“One Part, Two Part” and “I Will Not Fall Down” are Nashville songwriting at its laziest. They’re not even songs so much as they’re song titles. It’s all packaging and no product.
The album is polluted with that bizarre inversion of modern country music: The less a song has to say, the longer it takes to say it. Songs go on forever on this album. The bloated opener, “Halo”, doesn’t contain a single intelligible moment, despite five minutes of trying. “Touchdown Jesus” is a ridiculous concept to begin with, and could’ve made its point in two minutes instead of four, had McGraw had the good taste to cover Bobby Bare’s “Dropkick Me, Jesus” instead.
Look, you know you’re in trouble when nine tracks in, it’s a relief to hear “Felt Good On My Lips.” Sure, the melody’s so blatantly derivative of “Video Killed the Radio Star” that it makes Lady Gaga sound fresh and original. But at least it has a pulse, even if I’m still bewildered by the Incredible Machinery of it all.
And to be fair, there are some decent moments scattered throughout, like “Better Than I Used to Be” and “Die By My Own Hand”, but it’s all ground that McGraw’s covered before, and better, too. They’re just not worth sitting through Emotional Traffic for.
Had I not committed to writing this review, I don’t know that I would’ve listened to this album at all, certainly not for a second and third time. This level of work from this level of talent is nothing short of completely unacceptable.
One Sunday afternoon you go about rummaging through your attic, looking for items to donate to a local rescue mission…..and suddenly you find yourself re-acquainted with a bedroom poster depicting your favorite artist growing up, lightly caked in dust. At that very moment you let out a bittersweet sigh, and fondly stare into space as you reminisce of an early flame that came and went in your life, while that artist contributes the soundtrack to your saudade.
Which brings us to “Springsteen”: the third single from Eric Church’s breakout album Chief and follow-up to his first-ever chart-topping single “Drink In My Hand”.
Predictably, the track is another in a growing line of songs that purposefully references the name of another established artist or hit song (such as “Tim McGraw” and “All Summer Long”) for the purpose of reminiscing on a treasured memory, and is also heavy on references to some of the most definitive hits of that artist’s career (i.e. “I’m On Fire”, “Born to Run”, “Glory Days”, “Born in the USA”). On the surface, it appears little worth examining.
I invite you to gaze a little deeper.
“Springsteen” is every bit as semi-melancholy as it is a fond glimpse back at the past, with a gravity of shimmering sadness driving its production that is most closely tied to the Boss’s 1987 tortured-heart testimonial “Tunnel of Love”. Steered by a drum machine, and besprinkled with misty-eyed synthesizers and chatoyant glints of keyboard, “Springsteen” is without question far-removed from decidedly country soundscapes, but more resembles the sound of one of the Boss’s lesser-known releases, “Tougher Than The Rest”, albeit softer around the edges.
Church also channels Springsteen’s spoken-word style of singing here, with an understated, pensive and reflective vocal delivery in the verses that leaves you believing he is re-evaluating his slate of memory as he is speaking. The first verse, which sets the scene in reminiscing on a now seemingly distant world “somewhere between that setting sun, ‘I’m on Fire’ and ‘Born to Run’”, poignantly ends with the last line: “I can still hear the sound of you sayin’ don’t go…”
After a decidedly carefree, warm first verse overall, this last line before the first chorus sets the stage to the remaining direction of the track. Church sings the first chorus as though, upon looking back on the amplitude of the memory and suddenly feeling the sting of saudade, he feels the impetus to belt off his chest exactly what he sees in his mind’s eye when he thinks of that former flame: a seventeen-year old self gazing at the stars on a July Saturday night.
The second verse begins with an equal sort of urgency, where he croons:
“I bumped into you by happenstance, you probably wouldn’t even know who I am, but if I whispered your name, I bet there’d still be a spark…”
He goes on to suggest that he used to be gasoline, admitting that those were the “glory days” and, thus, nothing he has experienced since then has quite compared to them. That doesn’t necessarily suggest or prove, straight up, that the protagonist is unhappy in the present by any stretch. But I do find it telling that he’d use the metaphor of “gasoline” within the second verse, as though he is admitting there’s a sort of vitality which that memory is teeming to the brim with that he has never quite been able to replicate……going so far as to wonder if, perhaps, there’s still time to give it another shot with her. That is, if she still thinks of him.
Does she still fondly regard him? There is slight reason to believe she does, as evinced in the coda, where Church’s propulsive “Whoa whoa, oh oh oh!” softly evokes a call-and-response effect, mimicked by an unknown female voice. Is the voice indeed that of his former lover? Or is it the murmuring of a muse? It could well be interpreted as either.
These emotionally ambiguous nuances, and the burst-of-sunlight-piercing-through-the-clouds production, are what elevate what could otherwise have been a paint-by-numbers ode to young love to a whole other level. You can practically imagine Church standing there outside her house on a Saturday night, holding onto the faintest hope she’s been watching him too as she’s dressed up in blue……….praying she’ll say yes to another dance. And you’re rooting for a happy ending, yet also feel a chill going up your spine fearing his effort will be met in vain: finding his star-crossed self pacing one step forward, two steps back.
“Springsteen” is a gorgeous, bittersweet anthem-to-be that will likely leave even some more hardened hearts simultaneously smile and cry listening. As Church’s best single to date, it will all but certainly take his career to the next level, even as he’s already selling out venues left and right at the dawn of his “Blood, Sweat & Beers” tour as we speak.
Come on, Eric. There’s no foolin’ us that you’re any more tougher than the rest of us, behind that brilliant discount shaded disguise. Lift them up from over your eyes and show us your tears. Atta boy, Chief!
Written by Eric Church, Jeff Hyde, and Ryan Tyndell
Smarter and more incisive than nearly everything else in heavy rotation back in the day.
McGraw plays his cards so close to his chest that upon first listen, you may only pick up on his unconditional love and selflessness toward the girl who’s been stringing him along for all these years.
But repeated plays bring more emotions to the surface, as his phrasing and delivery reveal a bit of contempt and a bit more resigned disbelief at her remarkable obliviousness of her own callous selfishness.
He may be willing to to anything just to see her smile, but the listeners would love to see that smile disappear.
The moment where Tim McGraw discovers subtlety and finds it suits him quite well.
“Everywhere” is the title track from the album that established McGraw as a credible artist, and its release was demanded by radio, which gave it considerably heavy airplay as an album cut.
The song tells the tale of a man who is haunted by the memory of the girl he’s left behind in his small town to chase his dreams of a life outside the narrow parameters that surrounded them.
McGraw’s understated delivery packs the song with such emotional heft that the unresolved sadness lingers after the song has ended. It’s a masterful performance that, along with its charming predecessor “It’s Your Love”, notes the beginning of McGraw’s golden era.
Flipping through an old country magazine, I read a review of Tim McGraw’s then-new album, Everywhere.
The journalist noted his surprise at the title track, which demonstrated more subtlety and gravitas than he’d previously thought McGraw was capable of.
That was so many years ago that it’s hard to remember that McGraw was something of a novelty singer back in the day, a step or two above Billy Ray Cyrus but not quite up there with Joe Diffie.
Fourteen years later, we’ve had so many thoughtful and compelling records from McGraw that when a new one comes along, it’s easy to take it for granted. Standing in the shadow of “Live Like You Were Dying” is a hard place to shine.
So while “Better Than it Used to Be” is classic McGraw and a welcome relief to hear after “Felt Good on My Lips”, it’s not quite in the league of his very best songs in the same vein, like “One of These Days” and “My Next Thirty Years.”
But I do have to publicly thank him for the clean, tasteful, and decidedly country production. Any record that doesn’t hurt my ears these days is greatly appreciated.
Tim McGraw and Faith Hill’s first studio collaboration is still one of their best (“one of” – “I Need You” is even better). I’ve never been a huge fan of power ballads, but I probably would be if they all sounded as great as this.
Lyrics like “It’s your love/ It just does something to me/ It sends a shock right through me/ I can’t even get enough” might come across as paint-by-number if given a simple by-the-book vocal treatment. But McGraw turns in a top-notch vocal performance – restrained in all the right places, but rising high when the time is appropriate. Thus, the lyrics do not ring vague at all, but instead are heard to spring from a deep place of sincerity. The song itself is good, but it’s the vocals that push the song to greatness.
In essence, Faith Hill does what is typically referred to as “singing background vocals,” but her contributions are prominent enough that her voice clearly comes across as that of the narrator’s lover. More importantly, the depth and color of their harmonies gave fans their first taste of the powerful chemistry that became the hallmark of the McGraw-Hill vocal pairing.
To quote Tara, who says it better than I could, “‘It’s Your Love’ represents the moment in country music history when we were introduced to one of its definitive couples.” Tim McGraw’s singles had been largely hit-or-miss up to this point, but as the precursor to one of his strongest studio albums, “It’s Your Love” announced that McGraw had found his mojo.
A sound sentiment stuffed in a sound-impaired package.
The generic “moody” 90′s production does some of the damage, as does a patchwork melody that can’t seem to connect its phrases. But you can also hear McGraw still ironing out his vocal technique, as his likably nervous tremor in the verses meets a series of clumsy trills and some pitchy “baby”s and “maybe”s.
That great title sentiment shines bright, though, almost overcoming the facelessness of the story and the aforementioned sonic issues. Just not quite.
If history had played out the way Woodrow Wilson planned, we’d be celebrating the 92nd Armistice Day today. When first proclaimed a national holiday, Wilson declared the following:
To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations.
If the Great War had been the last war, we wouldn’t be celebrating what is now known as Veterans Day. We also wouldn’t have an incredible legacy of songs about soldiers in the annals of country music.
Here are five classics that celebrate those who have served our country and the ones who love them, along with one tale that has a returned soldier that’s not being loved quite enough.
“Dear Uncle Sam” by Loretta Lynn
from the 1966 album I Like ‘Em Country
Lynn was on the cusp of superstardom when she released this top five hit. Penning a letter to Uncle Sam, she pleads for the safe return of her husband. She sings, “I really love my country, but I also love my man.” His return is not to be, as the song closes with a heart-wrenching recitation of the telegram informing her that he won’t be coming home.
“Galveston” by Glen Campbell
from the 1969 album Galveston
Campbell’s finest performance is a homesick ode for the lady and hometown that he left behind. The sweeping strings and stirring vocal evoke the waves of heartache that are crashing up against his heart, much like the waters of Galveston Bay crash along the shores he once walked with her.
“Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town” by Kenny Rogers and The First Edition
from the 1969 album Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town
Mel Tillis penned this massive hit for Rogers and his band, originally recorded by country artist Johnny Darrell, who took it into the top ten in 1967. The narrator lays in bed, paralyzed from his stint in “that crazy Asian war.” He is helpless as Ruby gives in to desire and heads into town looking for the love he can no longer provide, and he’s left there wishing she’d only wait until he died for her to step out on him.
“Soldier’s Last Letter” by Merle Haggard
from the 1971 album Hag
The spiritual predecessor of Tim McGraw’s “If You’re Reading This.” Mama sits at home, reading a letter from her son overseas. He’s writing from a trenchmouth, hoping his mother won’t scold him for his sloppy handwriting the way she did when he was a kid, tracking mud into the house because he didn’t wipe his feet. He promises to finish the letter when he returns from his next battle, but the letter that arrives back home is incomplete.
“Travelin’ Soldier” by Dixie Chicks
from the 2002 album Home
The modern benchmark for soldier songs. Bruce Robison’s original versions are both worth seeking out, and can be found on his self-titled 1996 album and his 1999 set, Long Way Home from Anywhere. But the acoustic instrumentation that surrounds Natalie Maines’ plaintive delivery makes the Dixie Chicks version the definitive one.
“Welcome Home” by Dolly Parton
from the 2003 album For God and Country
In a brilliant feat of songwriting, Parton weaves together four stories: a soldier returning home, a soldier dying overseas, Christ’s death and resurrection, and Parton’s own hope and longing for eternal salvation.
Friday, May 5, 2006 – The Palace of Auburn Hills, Michigan. For Faith Hill, it was just another stop on her Soul2Soul II tour with her superstar husband Tim McGraw. For young 14-year-old Ben Foster, it was my very first live concert experience (or at least the first that did not entail bringing a picnic blanket), and it was one that I never forgot. I still have the ticket stub.
I became a Faith Hill fan at a young age, and I became an even bigger fan as I grew older. As I set about acquiring all six of her Warner Bros. studio albums, my admiration for this talented artist only grew. To one who knows Faith Hill only for crossover pop hits like “Breathe,” “This Kiss,” and “The Way You Love Me,” it might come as a bit of a surprise what a strong album artist she was. Besides that, she possessed genuine country sensibilities in addition to the pop diva persona that she became so well known for.
As I continue to eagerly await Faith Hill’s return with her seventh studio album, I’m thrilled to share my 25 personal favorites out of her eclectic catalog of tunes. Many of these songs were substantial hits, but I’ve also left off a few well-known singles in favor of some lesser-known hidden treasures. As always, please feel free to share your own favorites in the comments section.
“The Way You Love Me”
Now, don’t give me that look. We’re all entitled to a little guilty pleasure time, aren’t we? Look, I still don’t know what “If I could grant you one wish, I wish you could see the way you kiss” is supposed to mean, and I’m guessing you don’t either. But what I do know is that Faith Hill somehow managed to craft a ridiculously catchy piece of pop-country nonsense that had me hopelessly hooked ever since I first heard it over a decade ago. I couldn’t not love it if I tried.
Take Me As I Am, 1993
Faith’s 1993 debut single is an enjoyable and fitting introduction to a major talent. The lyrics portray a free-spirited teenage girl who, in addition to having a rebellious streak a mile wide, is a proactive go-getter who takes life as it comes. “Life is hard,” but she says “That’s all right.” It’s an effortlessly charming record, and yet at the same time, it almost seems like an hors d’oeuvre in comparison to the deep and insightful material Faith would tackle in the future.
“Sleeping with the Telephone” (with Reba McEntire)
Reba McEntire – Reba Duets, 2007
With this fantastic collaboration from Reba’s 2007 duets project, Faith and Reba play the parts of two neighbors, each of whom is married to a man who risks his life on a daily basis. Their circumstances are different, with one husband being a soldier and the other being a police officer, but each wife copes with the same troubling feelings of deep worry and anxiety. But honestly, this track is a shoo-in just for the pure pleasure of hearing Hill and McEntire, two of country’s most dynamic vocal powerhouses, paired together – trading verses and blending their voices in harmony on the soaring chorus.
“Let Me Let Go”
A brokenhearted woman tries to move on in the wake of a break-up, but is unable due to the unshakable feeling that they really were meant to be together. (“If this is for the best, why are you still in my heart, are you still in my soul?”)
“Someone Else’s Dream”
It Matters to Me, 1995
The story of a young woman gradually discovering her own distinct identity, and discovering that her parents’ hopes and dreams will never be hers. When the song reaches its final bridge, the young woman has firmly made her decision: “She’s got twenty-seven candles on her cake, and she means to make her life her own before there’s twenty-eight.”
“Love Ain’t Like That”
In a clever composition with some classic Matraca Berg lines, Faith debunks a series of mistaken ideas about what love is really about, while also underscoring the importance of commitment in a lasting relationship. Favorite lines: “You can’t buy it at the store, try it on for size, bring it back if it don’t feel right.… You can’t trade it in like an automobile that’s got too many miles and rust on the wheels.”
“Let’s Go to Vegas”
It Matters to Me, 1995
The unshakable joyfulness of “Suds In the Bucket” meets the wide-eyed charm and innocence of “She’s In Love with the Boy.” From the light airy arrangement to Faith’s enthusiastic performance, “Let’s Go to Vegas” embodies all of the youthful romantic excitement found in that one little moment of “Hey, I just had a crazy thought…”
The Hits, 2007
This one might have come across as an attempt to re-visit the power ballad euphoria of “Breathe,” which it might have been, but it carries an extra air of mystery that gives it a distinct identity separate from its predecessor, while the melody and performance make the song captivating on its own merits alone.
“What’s In It for Me”
On the kickoff track of Faith’s runaway success of an album, her performance sounds like the release of an eternity’s worth of pent-up fury. The aggressive country-rock production, combining awesome guitar work with some mighty fierce fiddling, added up to a record that sounded truly ferocious.
“The Secret of Life”
In this philosophical number written by the ever-excellent Gretchen Peters, several men drinking in a bar ponder over the fabled “Secret of Life,” eventually concluding that “The Secret of Life is nothing at all.” Faith’s half-sung, half-spoken performance brought the conversational tone to life, taking a song that was hardly radio-friendly, and turning it into a Top 5 hit.
A full-on pop power ballad in which Faith strikes the delicate balance of exercising her powerful pipes in a fiery delivery, while still retaining the emotional connectivity of a great country record. Her formidable vocal prowess is on full display, but even the biggest power notes are still colored with a deep emotional quiver.
Faith Hill took the pop-country power ballad to new heights with this cross-genre career-defining hit.
Regardless of how overexposed the song might have been, it’s a memorable record for the way it combines physical attraction with the warmth and comfort found in true love, while also displaying the increased power and fullness that Faith’s voice had acquired over the years.
“I Can’t Do That Anymore”
It Matters to Me, 1995
This Alan Jackson-penned ballad puts into song the frustration, exhaustion, and hurt of a sunken housewife worn down from constantly striving to please her unappreciative husband
“I Need You” (with Tim McGraw)
Tim McGraw – Let It Go, 2007
Of all Faith’s collaborations with her famous husband, this is one of the best. This was only their second full-fledged duet single (with their first being “Let’s Make Love”). The restrained arrangement lends a deeply intimate romantic feel to the record, while both vocalists give killer performances. Tim McGraw digs deep into his lower register, while Faith’s soaring performance elevates the record to greatness. Never before or since had their chemistry been captured as effectively as it is here.
This track served as one of the lighter moments on the mature and compelling collection of songs found on Faith’s Fireflies album. The plucked-out, nearly-hillbillyish country-bluegrass arrangement sounds worlds removed from polished crossover number like “Breathe.” In a song ripe with clever and silly lines, Faith steps into the minister’s shoes at a backwoods white trash wedding. The flirt of a bride is three months late, and the groom is “checkin’ out the bridesmaids, thinkin’ that he might take the maid of honor’s honor.” Fittingly, Faith ices the cake with a closing line of “Y’all come back now, ya hear?”
“A Man’s Home Is His Castle”
It Matters to Me, 1995
Listening to this song is like peeking in the windows of a home torn apart by domestic violence. “Castle” takes on an added level of realism in that it gives a voice to the battered woman, and even gives the couple names (Linda and Jim). The victimized woman is hurt, angry, and desperate, and every tortured emotion is conveyed in the lyrics, which make no attempt to tamper the song’s impact with a manufactured happy ending.
“Take Me As I Am”
Take Me As I Am, 1993
Could it be? A love song that brings maturity and self-realization to the table without sacrificing the joy and
giddiness of newfound romance? Faith delivers exactly that with the title track to her debut album, which includes standout lines like “I’d trade a million pretty words for one touch that is real,” as well as romantic lines like “Baby, don’t turn out the light… I wanna see you look at me.”
“Like We Never Loved At All”
A delicate piano intro with strains of steel set the tone for a beautiful ballad of a woman who struggles to move on after a breakup, while her pain in increased by the realization of how easily her former flame seems to have moved on. The song is bolstered by Tim McGraw’s harmony vocal, while memorable visual images (“There… walking with your friend, laughing at the moon… I swear you looked right through me”) bring the narrator’s pain down to a strikingly relatable level.
“It Matters to Me”
It Matters to Me, 1995
An expression of hurt feelings that is all the more effective for its simplicity and straightforwardness: “When we don’t talk, when we don’t touch, when it doesn’t feel like we’re even in love… It matters to me.” How much more direct can you get?
“When the Lights Go Down”
Faith’s 2002 set Cry was criticized by some for going in a straight-up adult pop direction. But the detractors often missed the fact that Cry is a fantastic pop album, which includes some of the best songs Faith Hill has ever recorded. Exhibit A is “When the Lights Go Down” – a stunning musical testament to the clarity and inescapability of ultimate truth, elevated by Faith’s showstopping vocal performance. The song takes on a tone of positivity as it highlights the fact that life’s most turbulent experiences afford us the opporunity to discover our own inner strength. Easily one of the finest tracks on the Cry album, it’s a shame it wasn’t fully embraced by radio.
“You’re Still Here”
It’s hard to go wrong with a Matraca Berg/ Aimee Mayo song. In a similar vein to Trisha Yearwood’s “On a Bus to St. Cloud,” “You’re Still Here” is a tale of the love that’s long gone, most likely in death, but whom the narrator still sees in her dreams, in her baby’s eyes, and everywhere else. At one point she even says “I heard you in a stranger’s laugh, and I hung around to hear him laugh again, just once again.” It’s an achingly beautiful lyric, delivered in one of Faith’s finest and most emotionally-resonant performances on record, while the soft touches of oboe in the arrangement add layer of mystery to the track.
“Wish for You”
A mother’s expression of all that she wishes for her child. It’s made even more touching by the fact that she never once makes the wish that everything in life will go perfectly for her child. Instead, she simply wishes that, when things do go wrong, her child will pick herself back up, move on, and be a better person because of it. That keeps the song from coming across as cheesy, instead deepening its emotional impact, and keeping it firmly grounded in real life.
“If My Heart Had Wings”
Sometimes it irritates me when certain female artists constantly feel the need to belt out their songs at the top of their lungs. In the case of “If My Heart Had Wings,” however, I can’t imagine the song being sung any other way. Begging to be blared at high volume in one’s car with the windows rolled, “If My Heart Had Wings” is three and a half minutes of pure pop-country euphoria.
Does this song even need a caption? Probably not, but here it goes anyway. “This Kiss” is a perfect sonic encapsulation of all the joy and romantic giddiness of a newfound love (and yet it came out when Taylor Swift was still in grade school). There are few pop-country tunes that are able to achieve such high levels of catchiness, or to give the replay button a workout like this song does.
Mature, intelligent, and insightful – exactly the kind of material country radio is perpetually in need of, and yet all too often shies away from. “Stealing Kisses” plays like a sequel to the innocent youthful “Love Story”-esque material of artists such as Taylor Swift. As a young woman, the narrator is “stealing kisses from a boy” only to find herself a housewife “begging affection from a man” with the passage of time.
Lori McKenna writes a beautiful song, and Faith Hill beautifully sings it. The song was released as the fifth and final single from Fireflies, and though it only scraped the bottom of the Top 40, it offered one of those rare and special moments when the voice of the adult woman was heard on country radio. Faith Hill and her label are to be commended for having the guts to send it to radio in the first place. A definite career highlight, “Stealing Kisses” aptly demonstrates that, at her best, Faith Hill is just as capable of delivering deep, substantial material as she is capable of serving up a tasty morsel of ear candy.