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When Jeremy Pinnell released OH/KY in the summer of 2015 to stunned acclaim, it felt like an entire career compressed into one knock-out album. Hailed as a “ming-blowingly good” (Greg Vandy, KEXP) “tutorial on classic country music” (Popmatters), Pinnell’s debut immediately differentiated as authentic and unflinching. Dogged touring through Europe and the states and celebrated radio sessions followed, cementing Pinnell’s position as a no-fuss master of his craft. 

His 2017 album Ties of Blood and Affection presents a canny lateral move. Instead of doubling down on the stark themes and values of his debut, this sophomore album finds Pinnell finding comfort in his own skin and achieving the redemption only hinted at in his previous batch of haunted songs. Here Pinnell joyfully embraces the working life, family obligations, and faith. His new stories delve into acceptance and survival, all the while investigating his most challenging chapter yet: adulthood. While “If life don’t get any better / I’m alright with this” isn’t an out-right triumph, it’s an honest revelation.

You can feel the room breathe and get a sense of these musicians eyeballing each other as their performances are committed directly to thick analog tape. Honest and careworn, Jeremy’s voice can touch on wry, jubilant, and debauched - all in a single line. Ties of Blood and Affection offers a fair dose resolution to Jeremy’s story. At his best, Jeremy Pinnell chronicles the joy and sorrow of being human, which is the best that anyone could do.

On Dawn in the Distance, Wells’ voice still packs a Kentucky-sized punch, but his solo debut takes a look beyond the Southern stomp of his former band. Call the new sound Americana. Call it blue-collar country. Call it fiery folk. While recording the album, Wells was simply concerned with serving the songs, teaming up with producer Duane Lundy (Sunday Valley, Joe Pug, Vandaveer) and creating Wells’ most affecting album to date. Songs like “Going Down Grinnin’” (which Wells describes as “embracing failure with a smile”) and “Three Quarters Gone” (inspired by the retirement of the singer’s father) are layered with pedal steel guitar, auxiliary percussion, and keys. 

On the album’s front cover, a beat-up suitcase sits beside a door. For years, that suitcase carried Fifth on the Floor’s merchandise. Now, it serves a different purpose, connecting Wells’ past with his next destination. He’s still traveling, still writing songs, still spending long evenings behind the wheel. He’s just pointed at a different horizon.