Rodney Crowell: Triage

Even if the listener isn't aware of Rodney Crowell's personal history in recent years, the veteran songwriter and recording artist may still sound a bit defensive during his metaphysical rumination that closes Triage. In the end, however, "This Body Isn't All There Is To Who I Am" is a logical, perhaps even inevitable, culmination of the reflections and observations that precede it. As such, it is a perfectly fitting conclusion to an album with a title that refers to the measurement(s) of urgency.

Yet it's also a natural extension of the personal intimacy Crowell invokes with the delicate acoustic guitar picking and hushed singing at the opposite end of these ten cuts, on "Don't Leave Me Now." Having encountered serious health issues in advance of the pandemic, it's understandable the man's perspective is as broad as it is deep there, but it's further indicative of his intelligence, that the opening number increases in speed and depth of arrangement before the half-way mark. The musicianly savvy favorably recalls the author's days as bandleader for Emmylou Harris.

Along those same lines, throughout Triage, Rodney Crowell judiciously utilizes elements of contemporary pop, rock, folk and country in such a way the sound he crafts with those around him transcends glib categorization. It is, however, a design flaw in the packaging of the album that none of the lyrics were included: this is one of those rare songwriters with as deft a touch for language as a melody, so to be able to more directly ponder his turns of phrase on the title song would only add to the pleasure. It certainly wouldn't detract from appreciation of the production overseen by the artist and Dan Knobler (who collaborated on that front with John Leventhal for "Hymn #43").

Physical design aside, the record nevertheless turns thought-provoking on a number of fronts, even in songs like the wordily "Transient Global Amnesia Blues." A dramatic narrative with a suitably haunting soundtrack, it's not only an expression of an acceptance of his own humanity from Crowell, he makes such magnanimity sound like a viable option for others. Communicating with at least some his tongue in cheek precludes the literary pretensions that have afflicted his work in the past—see The Outsider (Columbia, 2005)---while on another front, the pithy instrumental performance of "One Little Bird" offsets the somewhat precious tone of the singing.

In the end, however, the effectiveness of that cut pales in comparison to the unity of purpose that follows in the form of "Something Has to Change." The frequent insertion of synths might better have given way to more than just the four inclusions of David Henry's cello here, but at least a cut like "Here Goes Nothing" isn't sodden with the strings that bogged down Close Ties (New West, 2017); on the contrary, while it's not the perfect simplicity of Tarpaper Sky (New West, 2014), its ominous impact is in proportion to its understatement and its humble tone the source of its profundity.

Likewise unmistakable is the irony of tone of the author's vocal phrasing on "I'm All About Love." The jaunty gait of the band furthers a detached air on a song less transparent than it might at first sound. In contrast, as the native Texan touts the attributes of "The Girl On The Street"—sagely noting the object of his fascination is ...'somebody's daughter...'—his vocal is as taut as the arrangement This is the work of a man who discovered the truth of 'less is more' in songwriting and recording long ago and remains a master of that concept to this day.

Forced as it might sound, the otherwise staunch equanimity on the aforementioned final song also permeates the performance. That everything from Rory Huffman's harmonica to John Jarvis' piano and organ is all so clear to the ear is a tribute to the engineers involved, including those mixing (Knobler, Leventhal and Trina Shoemaker) and mastering (Dave McNair). Yet their skills and insight are no greater than the composer who wrote the tune to begin with; much in the same way Rodney Crowell has so shrewdly collected and tendered his thoughts nigh on a half-century, he displays a similar sagacity in marshaling the resources necessary to turn out the durable likes of Triage.