Buddy Miller, Midnight and Lonesome

Tim Eaton, December 2, 2002

Buddy Miller is country music. And I don’t mean the flashy cowboy hat or midriff-baring school of country music. While Nashville largely produces commercializations of tired clichés, Buddy Miller brushes away the clichés and replaces them with tradition. Too many people are all about adapting country music to up album sales; Buddy Miller is all about playing country because it is his passion.

And with that passion as a base, he explores styles through Midnight and Lonesome – hard country in “Little Bitty Kiss,” to soft ballad in “Please Send Me Someone To Love,” to neo-traditional in “Wild Card,” to Cajun in “Oh Fait Pitie D’Amour.” He is nearly always successful in each of them – he knows where his strengths lie, and he puts them to good use. His voice is now comforting, now sharp and accusing, now plaintive, and always perfect in its context.

“The Price of Love,” an Everly Brothers song, opens the album. Buddy is joined by his wife, Julie, as he sings of love he can’t forget: “Kiss one girl then kiss another / Kiss them all but you won’t recover.” As usual, Buddy and Julie blend perfectly – her silver rocker’s tone and his low twang seem miles apart, but their duets are brilliant.

“Wild Card” is written by Buddy and Julie, but it could easily have been a Hank Williams song. The lyrics evoke smiles and looks of did you get the joke? “I was just a wild card free as you please… but when it came to love I had to throw in my hand / Cause there ain’t no wild card ever could beat the house.”

In a duet with Lee Ann Womack for “I Can’t Get Over You,” the album takes a softer, slower tone. It rings more stereotypically as modern country – but their entrancing voices blending harmony redeem it. “A Showman’s Life,” with Emmylou Harris on background vocals, comes across stronger for a slow tune. The longing melody, the mournful steel guitar, and the understated organ all carry the theme of the words – the lament of a showman seeing the price tag that comes with his fame.

But the album is best when it’s in growling, hard country mode. “Little Bitty Kiss” is a standout, a driving song about a man falling hard for a girl. The lyrics are smooth and memorable: “Let me tell you mister, she’s so sweet / I’m a goner, I’m a little play toy / She could make the devil turn the other cheek / Make a king wanna be her little shoeshine boy.” This is country songcraft at its best!

“Quecreek,” penned by Julie, closes the album with an account of the nine miners trapped in Pennsylvania’s Quecreek mine a few months ago. Any song about current events begs to become irrelevant to future listeners, but with Julie’s talent for telling stories, “Quecreek” won’t fall into that hole. Buddy and Julie sing together on the track to fiddle and guitar, showing once again that a solid song doesn’t need slick production and singers chosen for their bodies; a good song can stand on its own.

Forget the new releases by Shania Twain and Tim McGraw. It’s this talent for songwriting and perfect use of tradition that makes Midnight and Lonesome worth more than either one. This is what country music should sound like!

Tim Eaton edits Chasing Hats and lives in New Hampshire, where country music is looked at with a horror verging on utter hate. He listens to it anyway.