Review Summary: I don't know where I am, but I know exactly where I am
Zach Bryan’s meteoric rise from unknown troubadour to stadium-packing country music superstar has been both incredible and strange to witness. Just four years ago, he was writing lines like “they tell me I can sell my soul for a dream and a couple of shows…badly written songs next to horses' shit is what an Okie boy prefers” on the rawly produced
Elisabeth, but now it seems like fame has found him regardless of his intentions. If you’ve been around since
DeAnn, you might’ve begun to feel slightly alienated by his sudden stardom; while nobody will fault the man for being successful at what he does, the disparity between his current reality (“mama, I made a million dollars on accident”) versus what he once represented is jarring regardless of how much you enjoy his music. Zach Bryan is also doing his best to stave off diminishing returns after having released over two hundred songs in a span of five years. What once sounded charmingly unique has started to feel recycled, which mattered less on the diverse and entertaining
American Heartbreak but managed to rear its ugly head on last year’s drab self-titled affair. Two things can be said about Zach Bryan with absolute truth in 2024: he’s one of the hardest working musicians out there, and it’s starting to work to his own detriment.
The Great American Bar Scene sees Bryan once again settle into something of a familiar groove. He tries throwing John Mayer and Bruce Springsteen features into the mix, but the results are ultimately the same: more slow-to-mid tempo country crooners with results-may-vary emotional resonance. The album is unsurprisingly at its best when Bryan injects fresh ideas and more energy into his formulaic approach, with the rollicking guitar solo on ‘Oak Island’ serving as the album’s peak excitement while the mini-gospel section on ‘Towers’ and startlingly gruff shouts of ‘Northern Thunder’ also register as victories over stagnation. Wrinkles like these are exactly what Bryan needs
more of, because when he’s blending his proven approach with even the smallest of distinguishing flourishes, the man is unstoppable. When he trudges forward on downtrodden acoustic autopilot, though – as he does for large swaths of
The Great American Bar Scene – it becomes a little too easy to tune out. The melodies, lyrics, and overarching emotions – even if they were once significant – all feel heard and experienced to death. That’s the problem with churning out
so much music in such a short time frame – it’s not that listeners expect every single country song to be groundbreaking and wholly refreshing, it’s that the capacity to feel the same level of poignancy over and over again will eventually wane.
In Zach’s case, he finds himself at a crossroads here. His songs are still well-constructed and lyrically affecting, which are traits that are unlikely to ever change and that will always provide his music with a high floor. The problem is that with each release like
Zach Bryan or
The Great American Bar Scene, these comparatively plodding efforts that bank on emotional investment on the consumer’s part with little to no variation from his end, another layer of novelty erodes. It leads to more questions than answers: is Zach Bryan’s work ethic leading to an output so prolific that he’s burning through ideas too quickly? Can Bryan – a life-loving, beer-drinking, and self-admitted simple man – vary his art enough to appeal to a fickle mass? This is a gifted artist with a clear knack for writing relatable music, so the smart money remains on his side – however, the onus is now on him to prove that he’s more than a one trick pony.
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