In a career that embraces soul, psychedelia, pop, country, and rock Joan Osborne has never sounded as pensive and intent on imparting her hard-earned wisdom as she does on Nobody Owns You. This is a different side of Osborne than we heard with Trigger Hippy or alongside surviving members of The Grateful Dead. This is much more Joan the songwriter than Joan the powerhouse vocalist. She confesses to the songs coming from a raw emotional place and her versatile vocal approach is in synch with those very emotions. Too often we hear the cliché ‘Most personal album yet” but there’s no denying that here. She partnered with Ben Rice (Valerie June, Norah Jones) who produced, mixed, and engineered the album, making him responsible for its distinctly Americana sound. In the course of working together, Osborne had just abandoned a 15-year relationship, her daughter’s set to leave home for college, her 92-year-old mother developed early signs of Alzheimer’s, and Rice had lost his father. So, the emotions that weave through the record are unequivocally immediate and authentic.
The sound runs the gamut from spare on some tracks and lushly layered on others with Rice playing various guitars and Mellotron, Cindy Cashdollar on lap steel, Dave Sherman on piano and B3, Josh Lattanzi on bass, Greg Wieczorek on drums and Jack Petruzelli on multiple instruments on select tracks. The harmony voices of Rachel Yamagata and Catherine Russell appear on several tracks and Jill Sobule joins on one as well. The opening “I Should’ve Danced More” is a relatable notion about how we look back at our younger selves with tinges of regret, realizing we were so serious in pursuit of whatever career goals. Rice supports with his banjo guitar and Mellotron as Yamagata serves as Osborne vocal foil. The title track is a statement in itself; even before we hear the music. It’s meant as an admonition to her daughter to be aware of those trying to manipulate for their own interests. Wispy lap steel and gentle percussion frame the lyrics gorgeously.
One of several reflective songs is the acoustic ballad, “So Many Airports,” sung in a half whisper, nodding to three decades on the road and hinting at the toll it has taken. As a working mother and an avowed feminist as chronicled on previous albums, “Woman’s Work” comes expectedly although the blues rocking accompaniment complete with throwback Farfisa organ, is a rather surprising touch. These same emotions crest in the standout ode to mother-daughter love, “The Smallest Trees,” with the field recording of birds meshing with Wieczorek’s glockenspiel and the tinkling pianos and Omnichord of Sherman and Petruzzelli.
In the first of few socially conscious songs, Osborne expresses requisite horror at gun violence in the hard stomping “Time of the Gun” while taking a swipe at right-wing pundits in the final track, “Great American Cities” where she rebuts their insistent criticisms buoyed by her three background vocalists. Even “Dig a Little Ditch” is a metaphorical way of saying we have to work ourselves out of the mess we’re in as she taps into the age-old motif of fieldwork songs with Russell and Yamagata slaying the chorus.
Yet, Osborne’s emotions embrace the usual themes as well. “Secret Wine” is a co-write with Rice centered on the brightness and lightness of her mom beset with dementia. The underlying accompaniment of Cashdollar’s Weissenborn, Rice’s acoustic and Mellotron, Sherman’s piano, and the absence of any percussion or backgrounds allows her vocals to float ever so gently. Still, with her mom in mind, she nods to Dylan (as she’s long been a devout disciple) in the infectious “Child of God” with Sobule joining the other two for the singalong chorus. Romantic love emerges in the percussive, blissful “Tower of Joy” while “Lifeline” is provocative as if to pose the question of what we’ll leave as a contribution to the world or, said another way, what keeps us thriving. Osborne’s always had that provocative streak dating back to her 1995 breakthrough Relish, but she’s never been as focused and direct as she is with this poignant effort.
