A peculiar album. I've listened to it so many times by now, I feel I know when he's about to breathe, I can tell where the fingers squeak across guitar strings, and I feel I understand the lyrics more. The tunes are incredible, each having that special something, and the level of musicianship shows marked improvement over the Whiskeytown catalog (I sure wish he'd let loose just a little bit, but it's a solo effort, and that's to be expected: no electric fuzz anywhere).
But I can't get over how subpar and unremarkable the production job is here. Several songs are mixed horribly, with the instruments so low and the vocal so high, you can barely if at all tell what the melody is. ("My Winding Wheel", awesome a song as it is, suffers fatally from the bad mix). Is this a conscious style? An attempt at art? Or just a bad production job? On "Damn, Sam" and "Oh My Sweet Carolina", I find myself singing along, but not to any music: I'm harmonizing with everyone else, and that's annoying. I hear a great tune somewhere in "Come Pick Me Up", but as it unfolds, I plug my ears for the annoyingly derivative Neil Young harmonica wheeze that not only disrupts the mood of the song, but is mixed so darn loud my dog starts crying in the room next door.
There WAS an album for the ages somewhere in here: had Ryan given a few more listens to the mix, maybe it would have been a monster. But criticism aside, I'll pick the few tunes I enjoy and probably come back to this album again, at least for "To Be Young" and a few others, but wondering for a while what might have been.