1/19/2024 0 Comments Luke combs tennessee whiskeyStapleton, however, follows the lead of the production, and leans into the melancholy vibe almost exclusively throughout the song. The problem, however, is that pain is only half of the equation here: The narrator is supposed to be celebrating his new relationship that is rescuing him from his alcoholic vices. His range, tone, and vocal charisma remains unmatched in country music, and he does a great job taking the narrator’s pain and sharing it with the listener. Speaking of Stapleton, he is who he is at this point, and thankfully “who he is” is pretty darn good. I know Cobb didn’t want to step on Stapleton’s lines, but come on, you can’t make Stapleton do everything for you. (The fuller piano/string arrangements that Jones leaned on swing more in the opposite direction and favor the good over the bad, which connects with the listener more effectively.) The tempo on Stapleton’s version is also a major problem: It’s less than half of what Coe and Jones were using, and that snail’s pace saps the song of all its energy and makes it drag on and on until the listener is begging for another song to start and end their suffering. Outside of the bass, nothing here feels necessary or makes a meaningful contribution to the mood, and while the resulting atmosphere is bluesy and captures the narrator’s prior melancholy, its dark, foreboding tone doesn’t reflect the narrator’s newfound lovestruck joy at all. It’s one thing to stay out of the singer’s way, however, and another to be sidelined so much that you don’t add anything to the mix. Producer Dave Cobb seems to favor sparse, simple arrangements when working with Stapleton (why get in the way of his critically-acclaimed voice?), and the production here is no different: You’ve got a few guitars (an acoustic one for the verses, a slick electric one to provide some simple atmospheric stabs are a barely-there solo, and a deep-voiced axe that opens the song and fills time between vocal parts), a prominent bass that does more to carry the melody than anything else, and a methodical percussion from a real drum set. While I will credit him for putting his own spin on the track, the result is a plodding bore that doesn’t get its message across as effectively as Jones’s version. Four years later, “Tennessee Whiskey” is a zombie that refuses to die, and beyond Stapleton’s vocal prowess, I don’t really see why. Stapleton generated a ton of buzz when he covered the song with Justin Timberlake on the CMA awards, but that was back in 2015, and at the time Mercury Records (which still seems to have no idea what to do with Stapleton) released “Nobody To Blame” as a single instead. That song? “Tennessee Whiskey,” a Dean Dillon/Linda Hargrove tune that was covered by both David Allan Coe and George Jones (the latter being the definitive version) in the early 1980s. I can’t say the same for Chris Stapleton: After the snorefest that was “Millionaire,” Stapleton fell off my radar completely, and hadn’t entered my mind at all this year until a song from his Traveller album suddenly reappeared on the airplay charts. I labeled Kane Brown a forgotten man in my review of “Homesick,” but at least I remembered he existed. Is there such a thing as waiting too long? Because Chris Stapleton’s about to find out.
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