I’m not sure if Americana would exist without artists like the Indigo Girls. Suffice to say that Amy Ray has spent her entire career crafting roots-rock songs that challenge, addressing social issues like homophobia, climate change, and racism — as well as some damn fine love songs. Ray’s solo work has veered into punk, though her last three albums, including Friday’s If It All Goes South are a musical and lyrical exploration of her roots. The thing about Amy Ray is that she can return to the same well many times and always finds something new and refreshing.
“Joy Train” kicks the album off with a Southern punk groove, with Ray backed up by friend of the blog Becky Warren, Mary Bragg, and and Hannah West. The album is studded with cameos by Ray’s longtime collaborators, including Brandi Carlile, Allison Russell, I’m With Her, Natalie Hemby, and the stalwart band whose ridden with her for her past few solo albums. The easy familiarity works in Ray’s favor, with the album’s meditations on the glory and sins of Southern culture coming off as an intimate family affair rather than a political screed.
And, of course, Ray plays to her collaborators’ strength deftly. Brandi Carlile’s solo vies with a searing guitar in the cathartic climax to “They Won’t Have Me.” Carlile’s fellow Highwoman Natalie Hemby adds warmth and depth to “From This Room,” Ray’s anthem of support for anyone who feels marginalized by a cruel and unsympathetic society.
The middle portion of the album features some of Ray’s most explicit songs yet. “Tear It Down” (which I featured on my anti-racist Americana mixtape) is seductive in its grandeur, with Ray taking us on kd lang-like stroll through the Southern gothic contradiction of its natural splendor and human visiousness. Allison Russell joins Ray in a plea to tear down Confederate monuments — but it’s the last line that drives the whole thing home.
“A Mighty Thing” finds Ray navigating her relationship with Christianity, particularly given the damaging lessons it taught her grew up. But Ray characteristically ties the song off with a lesson in shifting perspective: when we fear each other nobody wins. The subsequent song, “Subway,” provides a balm. It’s a song dedicated to the memory of WFUV host Rita Houston in New York City. While the church may have been threatening, champions like Houston (who was queer herself) helped create space for a young queer woman in roots music in an era where the industry had even less space for queer artists than they do now. And, of course, I love it for its fond remembrance of pre-9/11 New York.
COVID slowed me down when it came to writing this review. I imagine you’ve already given the album a spin but, if not, clear a part of your day to do so. It’s Amy Ray at her finest, with a sterling set of collaborators who lend their considerable strengths to a sparkling whole.