Ryan Bingham has a distinctive voice. It has an underlying weariness like maybe he spent the previous night trying to be heard in a loud room, but it also has an electric resonance, like he’s somehow able to amplify himself without the need for electronics. That kind of immediately-recognizable vocal character can become a prison for certain artists, who either feel locked into writing and recording the same kind of songs over and over again or otherwise deliberately avoid the familiar, to the confusion of their fans. Bingham opts for the middle path, reinterpreting what’s worked for him before, on American Love Song, a wonderful 15-song journey through folk, rock, country, and blues.
As a huge fan of Bingham’s 2012 Tomorrowland, a new Bingham release can be complicated. On the one hand, one is excited to hear new music, but on the other, one is slightly concerned he might take his sound, which is Americana with the perfect, most gentle touch of glam, in a different direction. But American Love Song is classic Bingham.
He kicks things off with “Jingle and Go,” a fun, upbeat track featuring a Band-inspired piano riff and beautiful background vocals. The song marries the New Orleans piano blues of Dr. John to a ridiculously catchy chorus that recalls the Rolling Stones at their pop-generating best. It’s a somewhat atypically joyous track. Bingham similarly goes sweet on “Situation Station,” which is a simple-yet-pretty country song driven by Bingham’s voice, which is vulnerable while also billowy.
Which isn’t to say that Bingham’s gone soft. American Love Song has many of his beloved, familiar anthems. “What Would I’ve Become” sounds like a huge rock song, but instead of being dominated by ringing electric guitars, the track is led by mandolin, with the electric guitar sliding in for a solo. It’s Bingham at his best when his band can match the intensity of his voice.
The power of Bingham’s voice is a funny thing. It’s almost like an instrument itself, seemingly somehow always drenched in reverb his body manufacturers. So on a quiet, mostly acoustic track, like “Wolves,” it can take the ear a few moments to adjust to what a soft Bingham moment sounds like. He is capable of many things vocally, but gentleness isn’t one of them. And maybe it says something about me, a beta personality who can still fit into his tracksuit, but there’s just something comforting about a voice that big—even when it’s putting across sadness and insecurity.
Bingham fans will appreciate American Love Song. While on the surface, there might be something slightly mellower about it—there are some poppy melodies and a decent amount of piano—at it’s core, the album is a continuation of his celebration of American music. Not in a beer commercial way, but in the way great songwriters internalize, synthesize, and personalize their influences. The treat of this album is great songs made even better by a remarkable voice.
