Short Form Review: 'Appaloosa Bones' by Gregory Alan Isakov

The sky opens infinitely from the first note. Isakov's Appaloosa Bones billows with inky bass that mushrooms like sand beneath a wine tinted ocean. Every word is salt soaked and nautical, with an overall sound that sops with production in a way Isakov's existing homespun discography does not. Opening track The Fall being the best example, simultaneously maintains Isakov's notorious lyrical integrity. The storytelling is as bulletproof as ever - his playful melodies bob above the murky ocean that seeps from instruments on every track. The reoccurrence of old timey professions are dappled through Isakov's story of a man who is longing, searching and yearning through the character of a tightrope walker, a watchman, explorer and cowboy. The world of this album is visualised through a Sepia film, explored through poem like lyrical structure. The lack of choruses is noticeable, successfully allowing Isakov to pack killer lines amidst the swirl of the instrumental arrangement. This arrangement does an exceptional job at holding us facedown in a vivid scene - Mistakes sounds like the oceanic undertow that the lyrics repeat, the banjo in Before The Sun sits us atop a coal train barrelling through the Arizona desert. Ever present thought each track is the sensation of that big, beautiful sky. Like all of Isakov's music, each corner of the sound is full, saturated with emotion and timelessness. An excellent addition to a spotless discography.