Lukas Nelson and Promise of the Real have proven themselves somewhat schizophrenic in the years since the group elevated its public profile through collaborations with Neil Young. On the one hand, working with the Canadian rock icon further accentuated the rowdy and rambunctious nature of their early albums on their own like Something Real, while their self-titled studio effort of 2017, in combination with A Few Stars Apart four years later, posited a group playing it safe for the sake of gaining an audience.
However, the alternate takes from Turn Off The News (Build A Garden) produced by the band itself and collected on Naked Garden, reaffirmed their eccentricity. As suggested by the new album’s title, Sticks & Stones is something else again, a deceptively defensive piece of work, but one in which Nelson and company do find their collective voice before the album comes to a close.
On “Overpass,” the interplay of the frontman on guitar with the multi-instrumentalist Logan Metz and percussionist Tato Melgar is complementary underpinning to the song itself. One of the least predictable and literal-minded on the LP, it’s also (appropriately) one of the longest cuts here, at over four minutes duration.
Most tracks are in the three-minute range, with a small handful less than that, one of which is “Lying.” This acoustic-based tune is the most forthright and sincere emotional expression on Sticks And Stones and it gains force through the play on words author Nelson posits in the verses to contrast the name of the song.
The presence of the recorded sound accentuates the credible intimacy of that performance, a credit that ultimately goes to the audio mastering of Greg Calbi. And the impressive clarity of the audio is one virtue in particular that benefits the closing number of the LP: “The View” is another near-solo track that legitimizes Lukas Nelson’s songwriting skills, as well as the understated savvy of Promise of the Real.
Would that such numbers be the rule rather than the exception on the album? Or that the band quintet stretched out longer and more often than they do over the course of the twelve selections. Taking the latter approach, in particular, would allow Lukas Nelson to maintain some healthy distance from such arch narratives as “Icarus,” while also giving some warranted attention to the ensemble who co-produced with him.
As it is, the title song features the bandleader singing an affected drawl that, while it might purposefully echo the twang of its bedrock electric guitar, sounds as affected as the female chorus recalling Lynyrd Skynyrd’s later work. To be fair, that performance may seem all the more stilted because it’s juxtaposed with “Alcohallelujah” a tongue-in-cheek (?) paean to the ravages of the bottle. But that track’s only slightly less oblique than the one that follows, “Every Time I Drink.”
The former would certainly benefit from some more extensive improv. And to that very point, the latter becomes more listenable with the short sweet guitar solo in addition to the jaunty barrelhouse piano. Still, it’s hard to escape the sense that, with such cuts, Nelson & POTR are deliberately aiming to secure a contemporary country audience (one that may not necessarily overlap with that of the erstwhile ex-Buffalo Springfielder).
Such a notion solidifies through the pixieish voice of CMA and ACM Award-winning Lainey Wilson on “More Than Friends.” The back and forth between her and Lukas, as they assume and maintain their respective characters on an ode to the benefits of being, is only slightly less stolid than the POTR backup.
Propelled by the rhythm section of Anthony LoGerfo on drums and Corey McCormick on bass, the fivesome nevertheless threatens to cut loose on the speedy “Ladder of Love.” Unfortunately, the cut ends all too abruptly and “Wrong House” does too, yet mercifully so: this is an awkward tale of a wayward journey home under the influence (of mushrooms this time).
At times like this, it’s impossible to escape the conclusion that more jamming by Lukas Nelson + POTR could not only speak volumes in and of itself but that the joyous sound would also be comparable to the more eloquent moments that occur late in the forty or so minutes that comprise Sticks And Stones.
