Local Albums

William Elliott Whitmore

I’m With You

WILLIAMELLIOTTWHITMORE.COM

William Elliott Whitmore has been described as a folk punk country banjo soul singer, and his new album I’m With You (out Oct. 17 on Bloodshot Records) is a fine example of all of those things. The album, Whitmore’s eighth, and his newest collection of original work since 2015’s Radium Death, manages to combine Merle Haggard and Mike Watt pretty seamlessly. I took my young son on a drive recently, put this on the VW’s stereo and proceeded to get lost along the roads of Washington County.

It opens with “Put it To Use,” a real showcase of both the writing talent Whitmore is known for and that signature voice, combining to tell the listener that time and talent aren’t to be wasted. The song is a good piece of advice with a hard driving banjo, and immediately I found myself singing along through the second chorus.

Whitmore’s gravel and grit bring out scenes of a workday done, a parent and an adult child having a discussion on a porch— the whole album is a conversation between Whitmore and someone from his past or present. As a girl from a farm family, this hits. The idea of time plays through the bulk of the album, in both obvious and more nuanced ways. It’s not surprising that this record is a collection of stories. Whitmore’s a dad now, and an Iowa boy, so the passing of time, stories and memories are things close to his heart.

The current single, “My Mind Can Be Cruel to Me,” is a raucous song that brought to mind the sounds of ’70s outlaw; upon its finish, I immediately played it again. I like everything about this song; I am a big fan of the pedal steel guitar. Whitmore is equally at home in the Americana music halls and the dive bar honky-tonks I grew Matthew Grimm up in. This album, like his othDumpster-Fire Days ers, really does a lot with simple GRIMMREALITY.NET songwriting and great hooks. “History” is another real standout on the album, and the I don’t know about you, but I’ve been holding a lot inside pedal steel again gives that farthe last several months. I spent away feel to expertly bring you most of June crying every day, to a standstill. This record does but I can’t remember the last that, time and time again: stops time I cried since. I’ve been anyou, makes you listen, makes gry and numb and unwilling to you feel like these songs are hope. Unwilling to feel. fleeting and precious, that you Dumpster-Fire Days, the new should really listen. If time is album from former Iowa Citian ephemera, this song in particular (now Madison, Wisconsinkeeps the record grounded. based) Matthew Grimm, cracked something THE IDEA OF TIME PLAYS THROUGH open THE BULK OF THE ALBUM, IN BOTH in me. OBVIOUS AND MORE NUANCED WAYS. From the opening track, I

Like all great country records, was bawling and laughing and this album has that one song reeling from the incredible relief with a line that just grabs you. of feeling heard. “Save Ourselves” isn’t just a Grimm has written a wry, love song, it’s a commentary on funny, poetic, inspiring, antifasthe state of the world, and the cist protest album for 2020 and line in the song, delivered in that beyond. He’s turned his tradesad, plain way is “I can’t believe mark incisiveness on the people it went to hell so fast.” 2020 has and the times around us, and he brought me to that place many pulls no punches in the truth he times, but Whitmore did it the spits. His language is unfiltered most beautifully. I’d love to be (NSFW, much of it) and spun alone in the Deadwood when brilliantly, like someone wove this song comes on the jukebox. Arlo Guthrie and Fiona Apple

The album finishes with the into the same intricate tapestry. one thing that remains: “Black He dropped the closer, Iowa Dirt.” It’s a real burner of “Whirlwind,” just before the a song, and a reminder that the 2018 midterm election (along land ties us together, births us with a “get out the vote” vid), and ultimately buries us. This and its hopeful call to action was my son’s favorite on the feels almost naive two years album, and a perfect ending to a later. But the rest of the album near perfect record. (mixed and mastered by Iowa —Darcie Hutzell City’s John Svec) steps to it—scrappier, more cynical and desperate, but with a clear goal of wresting that optimism back.

Track three, “Aspire,” is a gorgeous folk rambler that turns hope on its head, with deconstructed cliches and hilarious twists that end up comforting in their reliance on realism. “If you’re gonna light a candle instead of cursing darkness maybe go ahead and burn some stuff down,” he sings, and closes the chorus with “we’ll talk in the morning,” a gesture of solidarity that makes you feel like you can accomplish anything.

But it’s track four that grabs you by the throat and pulls you out of your chair to shake your fist in the air and become a better person. “Be Saffiyah Khan” is a tribute to the star of a viral photo, a young British activist who stared down a leader of the English Defence League. The song, in all its bouncy, cowpunk glory, is the best kind of inspirational rallying cry. The chorus calls us, among other things, to “be what bad men fear”—I can’t imagine a better exhortation.

“Be true, be brash, be a mensch, be antifash / Be heard, be undaunted, be what bad men fear, be Saffiyah Khan.”

This record is beautiful. “Stay the Fuck Home, Becky” skewers anti-maskers; “Nazis Agree With You” erases distinctions between those who claim the term and those who simply embody it; and the powerful “March,” with its fantastic harmonies, gives us “O brothers and sisters, it falls to us to right their wrongs / And we’re not here to ask.”

If you feel crazy, or alone, or unheard, or gaslit, or just despondent: listen to DumpsterFire Days. It’s the best self-care you’ll give yourself all year. And for the love of all the gods, listen to it before you vote. —Genevieve Trainor