JD Graham Chronicles Checkered Past On Raw & Pensive “A Pound of Rust’ (ALBUM REVIEW)

Singer-songwriter JD Graham’s A Pound of Rust is easily one of the most devastating albums of its kind that this writer has heard in the past few years. Yes, most of us were unaware of him until he bursts in with this work that chronicles a life of addiction, a small-time criminal, and a prison sentence. To be fair, this is not Graham’s first fling with music. He came up through metal bands, moved into southern rock with his band Sour Diesel Train Wreck, and did some touring. A catastrophic car wreck landed him in prison for five years beginning in 2017, where he recorded “Razor Wire Sunrise” inspired by the view from his cell each morning. He started a music program while in jail, found faith, and began his sober road to recovery. 

The impact of the album is almost beyond words. This writer played it all the way through and was so compelled by Graham’s stories, that the record played a second time completely through.  This is not something you casually slip into your player. You will likely hang on to every confessional word about loss, grief, breakup, and self-doubt, and redemption. Most of these songs are beyond stark. They are depressing but well-crafted.

The album was recorded in East Nashville at the Skinny Elephant by Neilson Hubbard, (Mary Gauthier, Kim Richey, Ben Glover, Rod Picott, and others) who is the ideal producer for these kinds of spare, raw efforts, mostly just Graham and his guitar. On some tracks we have accompanying musicians – Hubbard on drums, Juan Solorzano – pedal steel and various guitars, and Ryan Connors on Hammond organ.

The opening title track hits hard as he chronicles his addictions and missteps – “I’ve got a few things to get off my chest…I’ve put my failures on display for the whole world to see…I still don’t know If I can turn this pound of rust to a pound of gold.”  “Two Days South of December” is in one sense the antithesis of Merle Haggard’s “If We Can Only Make It Through December.” In the latter, the protagonist has a partner. In Graham’s case, he is pining for one lost along the way.  “Adaline” is his empathetic outreach to one who hasn’t yet conquered her demons with the haunting pedal steel and guitars creating a frighteningly haunting effect. We get the first taste of an upbeat tempo, four tracks in with “Quiet in My Cloud” written during a dark period in Graham’s life as he was fighting the pull of addiction.  

While the title track does a superb job of encapsulating his story in just one song, these others flesh out more details. “Letter from My Conscience” is so poignant, as it lays every bad decision bare. He now has a lens to look back and cast regret on his many false steps – “I threw you a rope and watched you chew it to threads…I wished I could have reached you in time, but you went running down the darkest roads with no lights…”

Somehow it feels a bit disingenuous cherry-picking his songs because you need to hear his full story and make your own discoveries, yet three others that stand out are “Her Memory,” bereaving the loss of a loved one which at first may seem just a tad lyrically contrived but the sincere angst in his vocal will win you over to the point, where you may be shedding a tear with him – “…There’s nothing I can say/ A thousand tears won’t bring her back/ Still I cry myself a river/Hoping they may find the sea/Because she always loved the water and making love out on the beach/But she ain’t here and I’m drowning in her memory.” Check the forlorn story of “West Virginia” and the closing “Stories from the Grave,” where he speaks from the unusual perspective of a man who was hung in 1862, a deserter who apparently rebelled against the cause of the Civil War, and as an ill-fated migrant in another.  These are not autobiographical but every bit as harrowing as his own stories: this is as real as it gets.