This writer has been a longtime fan of Steve Dawson’s Canadian Black Hen Records and one of their many talented artists is singer-songwriter John Wort Hannam who returns with his eighth album, Long Haul. The title track opens with simple, straightforward language and an infectious, simple melody that will inevitably evoke the late John Prine. That’s not a bad way to start. In fact, as Prine is dubbed the godfather of Americana, for the almost two decades of Hannam’s recording career, his music has taken on the term “Canadiana.” As a former teacher of language arts, Hannam has a gift for both lyrics and song structure. The flow is very natural and comfortable as if you’re eavesdropping on a group of musicians enjoying helping Hannam embellish his solid tunes.
These musicians are the usual Black Hen suspects – the superb master of strings Steve Dawson (check out “Twilight Diner”), drummer Gary Craig, bassist Jeremy Holmes, keyboardist Chris Gestrin, and (not coincidentally) John Prine alumnus Fats Kaplin (mandolin, fiddle, banjo, and accordion). These musicians use guitars, pedal steel, fiddles, and Hammond B3 to full effect, not unlike that mostly Canadian band once called the Hawks, who became The Band. Dawson splits his time between Vancouver and Nashville and, as such, often taps the best musicians from each city. Hannam hails from Lethbridge, Alberta. Due to the pandemic, much of the album rests on remote contributions that Dawson assembled but it is so cohesive, it sounds as if the musicians are gathered in one room.
Like many of us, Hannam sounds as if he used the isolated time during the pandemic to reflect on life up until this point. He claims he did not have any theme in mind when he began writing these songs. These narratives claim small victories earned through faith, resilience, with a heavy dose of humor. It’s mostly a warm view but carries a sense of realism that isn’t always upbeat. It’s a mature look back, as captured in these lines from the title track, “all about the chase / not the finish line / but babe that ain’t the case / no not this time.” There are more than a few hints of mortality too. Hannam describes his point of view this way, “’Long Haul’ is a reflection on my life up to this point, and for the first time my songs perfectly encapsulate the truth of where I’m at as an artist and a person. Life is short. Time is passing and I don’t want to spend it wishing that things were any different than they are.”
There are healthy and not so healthy sentiments of love first expressed in the sing-song shuffle “Wonderful Things” (“ain’t life full of wonderful things”) but later in the standout “Beautiful Mess” he duets with Shaela Miller in a classic breakup tune where the couple divides the material things in a witty way – “keep the Lou Reed record and the god-damn cat,” while acknowledging that they had loved each other with their beautiful mess. Pardon the Prine reference again, but it’s hard not to think of In Spite of Ourselves or Johnny and June Carter’s “Jackson.”
“Hurry Up Kid” juxtaposes the ephemeral nature of youth and the relentless, unforgiving passage of time. The sense of loss tracks hits directly in the gorgeous fiddle imbued “Other Side of the Curve,” a mournful tune but clearly one of the album’s best. Written after talking with a friend who was enduring lockdown thousands of miles away from the people she loved, Hannam looked at his own situation and realized how lucky he was to have a close family to isolate with.
“Old Friend,” another highlight, is a testament to the life of a long-time friend with a balance of favorable and unfavorable memories. Hannam is an observer and storyteller regaling us with small-town vignettes of how we all deal with our respective lot in life. No matter what, they are all learning experiences as detailed in “What I Know Now.” Rich in lyrics, there are certain verses that are simply brilliant and stand out. Take for example “Meat Draw” is about a small town legion Friday night event from the eyes of one who had to be there – “there’s an old gal in the corner/showing off her legs / but the old boys just ignore her/they came for bacon and eggs.”
This is a warm, relatable album where no two songs sound the same, and the hooks seem to just flow naturally. Hannam has an endless number of stories and emotions to share with us. Yet, the references whether to Prine or the famous singer-songwriter from Duluth are inescapable. The closing “Young at Heart” covers similar lyrical ground as Dylan’s “Forever Young” with lines such as “may you die young at heart at a ripe old age.” And, like Dylan, Hannam is clearly in it for the long haul. Take Hannam’s songs in the context of your own journey. It makes for worthwhile reflection.
