The Fall and the Further Decline of …

On the day Phil Lee’s new album turned up in my mailbox, I received five other CDs for review, and Lee’s was the last one I played. It was, far and away, the best of that particular lot, a funny, insightful and musically adept set of songs that owes a debt to lots of other musicians, but still manages to bear the distinctive and utterly unique stamp of a master of his own oeuvre. If you haven’t heard him before then it might help if you know that the Nashville-based Lee lives in that corridor of Americana where Bob Dylan, John Prine, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, Greg Brown, Jim Lauderdale, Utah Phillips and Arlo Guthrie have taken up residence. That’s pretty damn good company, and Lee can craft a song with the best of ’em; can make you laugh or make you cry, as the mood suits him. This album is grits-and-gravy Southern, deeply authentic and true to where it comes from. From the first song—“I Hated to See You Go”—to the last—“She Don’t Let Love Get in the Way (Reprise)”—we’re in the hands of a musical craftsman who makes it all seem effortless. If you miss this one, you’ll have to turn in your Good Ol’ Boy Club card.