‘The Great American Bar Scene’: Zach Bryan’s Celebration of the American Ordinary

Zach Bryan’s newest 19-track release is proof of his distinctly American talent. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Zach Bryan is a Great American Writer, and I think this album might just be the one to convince other people of that claim.

This is the kind of album that stays with you, I’m sure of that. Like with some of his earlier releases his songwriting is almost overwhelming in its genius, so it takes a few listens to catch all his references and metaphors, and these metaphors could move mountains. But the immediacy of its genius is undeniable, the first listen gave me the same feeling as folklore by Taylor Swift, or the first time I properly listened to a Jason Isbell album. There’s a moment when you realise how overwhelmingly talented some people are that brings tears to your eyes, and that’s something I say from experience. Zach has a way of combining his deeply personal thoughts and experiences with the fictional stories of characters that must wander through his mind and across his heart to produce some very special songs.

Zach fits in with the greats, he’s a once in a million writer and has the passion to back it up. It’s not by chance that Springsteen agreed to a feature on the album, or that he made a surprise appearance on the Quittin’ Time Tour, it’s obvious that he sees a younger version of himself in Zach and I can’t quite imagine the feeling of having a hero give you that monumental of a musical blessing. ‘Sandpaper’ is charmingly and nostalgically sonically similar to Springsteen’s ‘I’m On Fire’ and it feels like the product of a lifelong fan and his worn-out copy of Born in the USA. This timelessness is perfectly captured in having a 74-year-old Springsteen sing that people have been trying to smooth him out ‘For twenty-seven years now’.

This is undoubtedly an album that will have changing rankings, they’ll change depending on how hot the air drifting into your car window is, what else you’ve been listening to that day, and the time of night you leave the bar. But ‘American Nights’ will stay near the top, for an album released on the fourth of July, this is the track. Is there really a better celebration of a good day in the American imagination than this: ‘We snuck our Fords to the shore and drank a bottle bone-dry’.

At this point, even in a short career, Zach’s proved that he’s capable of topping the charts. He can find a place in Nashville even though he doesn’t want it, and he can keep doing his thing, because his thing is good. When compared to other big names in country, his success is a signal that there will always be a place for storytelling. His ability to shape his words into lines so poetic yet so simple – ‘Your funeral was beautiful, I bet God heard you coming’ – creates a sense of personal universality that the overly-produced, hook-heavy, and unoriginal Nashville releases can’t even come close to.

His excellence is unparalleled, but this album wouldn’t be what it is without his band. Even on tracks with very minimal instrumentation, there’s some kind of reminder that this probably wasn’t just Zach in a studio with an acoustic guitar. In my mind, there were a few people wandering in and out with a cup of coffee, or a dog knocking over snare-drums and mic stands. The features from the likes of The Boss and John Mayer prove just how respected Zach is in that circle of musical greats. For those who love Americana, John Moreland’s voice on ‘Memphis; The Blues’ will be as warmly familiar as a sunbeam on a wooden floor, but for others, Zach’s just introduced them to a genius. Leaving the final line of ‘Northern Thunder’ to a close friend, and an additional final verse on ‘Pink Skies’ to Watchhouse is a reminder of Zach’s humble generosity and constant admiration for those around him. And if you’ve been lucky enough to see him live, I’m still waiting on that moment, his band is pretty killer.

The America on this album is the America that’s easy to fall in love with, and for so many it’s the one that matters. It’s the one that captured the heart and imagination of a British girl, and it’s the one that Zach writes about best. For a turbulent time, a time of uncertainty and division, this album celebrates the unchanging and ever-present Americanness of small joys and beauty. It’s a real reminder that whilst news coming out the country might be scary, there is an incomparable sense of belonging that millions feel in the States: both those that were born there, and those that feel like they found a new home. There are stories in the sunrises, the sunsets, the songs, and the states that aren’t going to change anytime soon. There will always be a bar open somewhere, and they’ll always have whiskey on the shelf. There will always be Steinbeck novels to read in the summer, and red pickup trucks that look like they’re only just driveable. There will always be ‘State Trooper’ and ‘Hey Porter’ to put on the record player. There will always be hot coffee on a cold morning in the mountains. And there will always be American stories, we can add Zach’s to those now.

Whilst it might not be the snapshot of a wild night at a bar, it really is the ‘Great American Bar Scene’. The small conversations with strangers and the deep conversations with those closest to you. The moment when you look around and realise you might be in the company of the people who matter most to you, those you would ‘die upon hills for’, in a dark and probably dirty bar. The place that you can speak your mind and have disagreements, but at the end of the night you’re walking out with the people you walked in with. It’s a sense of home, and with Zach’s stories, he brings that feeling to wherever you are for an hour and three minutes. For his hometown audience in Oklahoma, for the person I saw in a ZB shirt in Boston, for my friend listening on a ranch in California, for the people I know who ‘don’t like country’ but I keep recommending to them anyway, and even for a Brit on the fourth of July, this is the American Scene that I hope continues to capture imaginations and realities for years to come. I think it’s the one that matters.

“Grab your beer through tears and fears, the great American bar scene”