In the recent HBO documentary Running with Our Eyes Closed, Jason Isbell laid out his inner workings on full display. Not that the accomplished songwriter ever kept his emotions or thoughts hidden when it came to his work, but watching his struggles with anxiety, rising artistic pressure, and marriage during the Reunions tracking sessions contextualized Isbell as someone who, in some ways, is incredibly in touch with himself. At many other points, however, it showcased a person who still has quite a bit of growing to do – and he’ll be the first to tell you such. His latest record with The 400 Unit, Weathervanes (out Friday, June 9th), reflects that duality, as Isbell comes through with 13 songs born from personal growth, changing attitudes, and ever-rising musical standards.
Throughout the hour-long Weathervanes, Isbell tells stories of family, backward politics, and coming to terms with the worst sides of yourself. Such themes aren’t unfamiliar terrain (hell, “White Man’s World” encompasses all three in less than four minutes), but Isbell takes careful steps to never retread old ground. He’s mastered the art of aging, turning every success or misstep into an opportunity to progress as a person and, in turn, as an artist. The new batch of songs showcases as much, as they’re steeped in perspectives and revelations that might have seemed foreign to him even three years ago when he released Reunions.
Take “Middle of the Morning,” a subdued country-rock tune with a soaring melody that tackles the experience of coming to tough realizations about one’s past in the midst of isolation. “I know you’re scared of me/ I can see it in your smile/ Like an unattended child you can’t quite trust,” he sings. “If You Insist” similarly deals with navigating the charged nuances of a relationship. Over shuffling instrumentation, the tune details the powerless feeling of trying to offer help to a partner who isn’t in a place to accept it.
Even when singing through the lens of a character, Isbell presents complicated bouts with love. “King of Oklahoma,” which features one of the best hooks on the record, presents a struggling man longing for the perceived comfort and ease of his past. “She used to make me feel like the King of Oklahoma/ But nothing feels like much of nothin’ anymore.”
In contrast to these confused, sometimes wallowing perspectives, Isbell spends other songs guiding listeners through life with poise and confidence. “Vestavia Hills” comes across like a letter to his past self. The track finds the narrator urging a younger rocker (who seems to harbor a similar lifestyle to that of Isbell when he joined Drive-By Truckers) to shape up and get his priorities in order before leaving the party life behind to find meaning in being a loving father and husband.
Of course, taking a more omniscient viewpoint offers Isbell a pedestal to muse upon political topics that, for him, hit close to home, like the regressive bigotry showcased on “Cast Iron Skillet” or the harrowing account of Isbell’s reaction to school shootings on “Save the World.” The latter once again takes the perspective of a father, one who fears for his daughter’s safety and has panic attacks in the grocery store after hearing a balloon burst.
