Lucero - Women & Work

Tennessee country rockers Lucero return with their most experimental record yet, Women & Work, mixing their own brand of Southern soul with rock and roll hooks and a wide range of musical backing.  

  

Introducing Women & Work, Lucero kick start their first record on ATO with Downtown, a minute long opener outlining the albums intentions; ‘come on out tonight, I’ll be good tonight’, they certainly don’t disappoint. The first song proper is the extension of this brief, On My Way Downtown. Here we are immediately exposed to Lucero’s fuller sound. Complete with a delicious blues riff and an uplifting brass section, this big band style is combined with Ben Nichols’ familiar barstool lyrics and a massive chorus of ‘come on baby don’t you wanna go, come on baby please say so’.

The title track that follows features a similar blues, rock and roll energy, powered along again by horns and an underlying jazz piano section that feels synonymous with the honky tonk bar themes described. It May Be Too Late acts as a call and response to the opening song. A slow, closing time piano beginning is soon laced with the last dregs of whiskey sorrow of a night drinking alone. The tender, downhearted lyrics lead to an unbearably desperate crescendo, perfectly mirroring that frantic search for a partner as the bartender starts to wipe down.

Track 5, Juniper, is driven by yet another bluesy guitar lick, a bravado fuelled dance number complete with horns, organ strains and a crooning Nichols at his very best. Though this track feels a somewhat unnatural successor to It May Be Too Late, this may simply be the result of searching for one story in the LP, rather than considering it a more sporadic compilation.        

Furthering this idea, Who You Waiting On tells the story of late night loneliness from the perspective of an unaccompanied woman, soon to be the interest of Nichols across the bar. The tracks steel guitars are soon overridden by a closing organ solo. Whilst previous tracks of despair have always featured a kind of hope in the night, track seven I Can’t Stand To You is pure despair. Described by Nichols as ‘the loneliest song on the record’ it is instantly darker, an eerie mix of wails and tense drumming creating a perfect storm of atmosphere.  In contrast, When I Was Young offers a reminiscent tone smothered around a steady beat, built up and centred on the lyric ‘I was fierce and wild in love, when I was young’. This particular track is perhaps the most similar to Lucero’s previous work, something which may well have been reflected thematically in sound, and is likely to fit seamlessly into their live show.

Sat rather confusingly far back into the album is the brilliantly crafted Sometimes. Featuring the LP’s most memorable riff, this slow, steam train classic is perfectly paced, building up and slacking to the anthemic post chorus ‘You and your brothers watch out for each other, always’, serving as a powerful love song to friends and family. The unfaltering grandeur continues with follow up Like Lightning, with rock and roll chords complimented by a heavily distorted bass line, crashing over a piano introduction. This is 1950’s rock at its best, with each lyrical gap feeling like it should be accompanied by an Elvis hip shimmy. Producer Ted Hutt continuing his near unmatchable ability to let vocalists go balls out crazy towards the end of the track, whilst making it all appear so controlled.

Perhaps like every Southern gent, the debauchery of such Saturday night fire is often accompanied by Sunday morning repentance in church. Therefore, as a perfect closer to such a rocking country record, final song Go Easy is given a gospel feel, its hymn like melody supplemented with a choir backed chorus.

That this doesn’t feel out of place on Women & Work is testament not only to the Deep South setting that Lucero have always nailed, but also to their new ability to expand and experiment. Nichols brings the album to a halt with an upsurge of voice cracking passion that is an ideal curtain closer to a country rock record that in acknowledging its roots and influences never cheapens or overplays them. A record that transcends its boundaries to feel at home whatever part of the world you’re listening to it in, whatever you’re drinking.

But, since you asked, mines a whiskey.