Kevin Morby Builds Haunting Americana Soundscape on ‘Little Wide Open’ (ALBUM REVIEW)

For his eighth studio album, Little Wide Open, Kevin Morby opened his ears to his midwestern upbringing, inhaling everything from insects to tornado sirens. Those sonic influences are exhaled in a mix of tense/fluid Americana altered by his current Los Angeles surroundings and the Upstate New York studio where he recorded.

Working with A-list producer Aaron Dessner (Taylor Swift, Ed Sheeran) and a host of talented friends, Morby’s melancholy art-folk-indie rock sound continues to evolve while his observational/questioning lyrics remain ear-catching. One major evolution is evident throughout the first half of the record, as songs begin sparse and build into a tense, buzzing pattern that is extremely reminiscent of Dessner’s main act, The National. This makes sense, as Dessner backs Morby on multiple instruments throughout each track, but it also makes the songs feel a bit stultifying. 

The opening “Badlands” uses odd, bleak, repetitive percussion and Justin Vernon’s siren call vocal to keep things slightly disorienting, while the easy strums and banjo plucks begin “Die Young” wonderfully, before that building string-laden anxiety ramps up to close. The first single, “Javelin,” gets dense as well, but Amelia Meath’s glorious vocals cut through. “All Sinners” keeps this formula intact by crowding in instrumentation as the song ascends, this time with a drum machine, at a moment when letting the song breathe might yield better results. 

This production/songwriting style reaches its zenith on the stretched-out “National Disaster,” which begins earthy, adding Lucinda Williams to Morby’s easy-flowing track before a drum beat bangs out around plinking piano and clanging guitar, resulting in seven minutes of the song traveling nowhere. 

While the first half plays like Morby fronting a new National record, the second half of Little Wide Open shifts. “100,000” uses specific lyrical touchpoints (Metallica albums, baton twirls) to successfully question the futility of it all, set to a lightly twinkling indie-pop beat. The captivating, extended title track is the clear album highlight as it eases the overloaded sound. It succeeds via rolling with banjo, Collin Croom’s pedal steel, Katie Gavin’s backing vocals, looping beats, and a delightful sense of wandering through space and time. 

There is a relaxed Tom Petty vibe floating throughout efforts like the rustic, vibrant “Cowtown” and the small-town-bound “Bible Belt,” as Morby’s vocals shine. The banjo and Mat Davidson’s twangy fiddle examine “Anywhere America” via some of Morby’s best lyrics on the country-leaning “I Ride Passenger,” while “Junebug” is a bit too cute with line repetition and Tom Moth’s harp. Much better are the confident vocals and stomping drums on the sweet “Dandelion,” and the poetic finale, “Field Guide For The Butterflies,” which questions humanity.    

Coming off the best work of his career, 2023’s This Is A Photograph, Morby remains open and inventive, partnering with Dessner, who brings on board what he does best, while also contemplating times passing, life/death, and the great beyond.