When you’ve built a strong fan base from singing songs about pain and sadness, it is tough to imagine where you go from there once you’ve found a little inner peace. John Moreland has, for the past several years, succeeded in shredding our hearts to absolute bits, making us ugly-cry to his soulful songs about the death of the American dream, the let-downs of life, and the depths of solitude and self-doubt.
A tour de force guitar player and writer with a world-weary rasp, Moreland has been firmly establishing himself in the roots music scene since the release of his acclaimed 2015 record High on Tulsa Heat and its follow-up, 2017’s Big Bad Luv. So it would come as no surprise that folks who’ve kept up might be expecting more of the same from Moreland. But with LP5, his latest, things have taken a turn toward the lighter side of life. Sure, Moreland can still make us shed a tear like no one else, especially as he tenderly pays tribute to a friend he lost (“In the Times Between”), or when he pens a love song for his wife (“When My Fever Breaks”). Still, with LP5 a weight has lifted and we’re treated to a new version of Moreland, one who is practicing a little self-love.
Working with producer and percussionist Matt Pence, regular collaborator and multi-instrumentalist John Calvin Abney, and incorporating the angelic vocal harmonies of Bonnie Whitmore, Moreland has unearthed a sweet spot for himself, sonically. LP5 is textured, soft and gentle, and then rugged and dirty exactly where it needs to be. We hear every creak in Moreland’s voice, whether he sings in a whisper or a wail. This experimentation with sound comes through especially on one of LP5’s standouts, “I Always Let You Burn Me to the Ground,” a song that finds Moreland wrestling with his inner demons and the ways he’s allowed them to punish him. It is hushed and ethereal, with delicate pings on piano keys and low harmonies. We have never heard Moreland quite like this.
On “East October,” Moreland crafts LP5’s most memorable melody and chorus, despite the hard loss that led him to it. An ode to his friend and fellow musician Chris Porter who died tragically in a car wreck while touring back in 2016, the tune makes reference to one of Porter’s own songs and looks back lovingly on their time together. No doubt this harsh reminder of life’s fragility is one of the experiences that has helped Moreland on his road to self-acceptance. We hear his struggle with this on “I’m Learning How to Tell Myself the Truth” and “Let Me Be Misunderstood.” The latter finds him dealing with his changing relationship to faith and religion, a theme we also hear on spare album opener “Harder Dreams.” “I hear your sermon,” he sings on the latter, “but I don’t think I believe.”
These days, Moreland has found that it’s enough to just believe in himself. LP5 is an exercise in quashing negativity and replacing it with kindness and understanding, self-forgiveness and growth. He says it best on the slow-burning “A Thought is Just a Passing Train,” when he sings “Save if for the savior/in the shadow of your mind/this life is but a moment/hope you had a time/shame is a cancer/go easy on your heart.” It is a quiet celebration of a life desperate to be lived to the fullest, and Moreland is doing his best.
