Chasing Mississippi // Dave Barnes
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Nashville singer/songwriter looks to hit big with catchy mix of pop and soul
Dave Barnes’ third studio album, Chasing Mississippi, is a persistent claim to the world that pop music has just found a new, endearing artist to call their very own.
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Chasing Mississippi is a conundrum. It’s kind of like that pesky ex. Just when you’re totally ready to write it off, it surprises you. Dave Barnes is just like this. He pulls you in. You’ve been tricked—and you like it. Barnes’ live show, similar to this, his third studio album, varies between the crooning pop star and a first-rate stand up comic; Barnes’ self-effacing charm, mixed with razor-sharp wit, wildly appeals to audiences of both young and old.
From the opening bars of the first track on the album, “A Lot Like Me,” you’re nodding along to the beat. The plucky electric guitar line is about as poppy as they come, and it’s impossible not to share in its rhythm. The groove is almost too contrived…but it works. A combination of Dave’s “oohs” and hand claps take a page from the girl groups of the 60s and lend to the feeling that this guy is blatantly aiming his music towards teenage girls. Either way, you’re already falling right into the beat—gladly.
The radio-friendly “Everybody But You” continues in this same vein. It’s as though it was written simply so high school and college-aged girls can sing along to it. “Can’t you see it when it’s just me and you// my face gets blushed// my sentences rush// I don’t know what to do.” This song is a sunny day, a gem for Barnes. The repetition of the chords and the simplicity of the drumbeat are exactly what the lyrics call for and—paired with Barnes’ soulful voice—make for a toe-tapping good time.
The next two songs take the feeling a bit too far. “Butterflies” and “Someday Sarah” both lyrically rely on the same high school, boy-loves-girl story and the sweetness of it all becomes slightly nauseating for the average listener. With lyrics like, “butterflies in my stomach// my feet off the ground// for now I’m saying// let’s just call this love,” you can’t help but start to think of Barnes as a one-man boy band. He’s quickly losing credibility with a more mature audience that doesn’t appreciate the slick sound as much as a younger crowd.
By the fourth track, you think that you’ve got this guy figured out. His voice might flow like melted butter, but really, Barnes is just another in a long line of unimaginative singer/songwriters, if slightly more soulful. A John Mayer that can really groove.
But if you stopped there, you wouldn’t quite get it. The fifth song off the record, “Jackson,” has Barnes taking it down a notch. Less pop, less production; it becomes more about the vocals and story-telling power of the lyrics. “Sixty-five down the Birmingham// the sunset sings like a hymn.” The influence of roots country music comes into play, with a slow, twangy guitar and some simple piano lines emerging behind Dave’s voice. Vince Gill’s presence on the harmony vocals adds to the overall feeling that, if allowed, anyone listening could almost smell the magnolias in the air and escape into the humid Mississippi night.
Wait a minute. Who is this guy?
In the second half of the album, Barnes shows us a different side of his creativity. He (unexpectedly) takes listeners on a journey back to the church house steps with the tracks “All That Noise” and “Greyhound.” Both of these songs are clearly a throwback to old-time black church music, and the listener feels like a fly on the wall at gathering of old, black musicians, playing solely to have a good time. And -- don’t you know it—we’re having a good time, too.
Lyrically, “All That Noise” speaks of such a gathering. “Jethro plays the trumpet in Mount Zion Gospel Band// Playing that thing for 50 years, just as hard as he can// Now keep on playing that thing Jethro// Fills my heart with joy// If you don’t play that trumpet// Lord, who’s gonna make all that noise.” The muted trumpet in the background adds to the feeling that you’ve stumbled across a rare treasure, forgotten southern music in all its glory. The syncopated hand claps and fast-paced piano keep the listener engaged and jamming right along.
“Greyhound” also pays homage to Barnes’ church influence, with a choir of soulful “oohs” in the background, lending to an image of a small gospel choir in the Mississippi delta. Barnes even syncopates some of his vocals in this song, and the majority of the brief track consists of Barnes’ voice, a choir, harmonica, and percussion. “Greyhound” is a true-life story of Barnes’ fiancée visiting him on a Greyhound bus, and the simple lyrics ring true as a testament of his love. Barnes also tries to take us out of the studio and right to the scene by adding the sound of the exhaust of a Greyhound bus to the mix.
It’s finally through these tracks that Barnes begins to show his maturity and versatility as an artist. Rather than make another pop album, he departs from the dime-a-dozen sound and lets his creativity shine through—and his audience loves him for it. The tracks that showcase Barnes doing his thing are the ones that set him apart from the scads of other artists all trying to write the same song, and allow Barnes to attract an audience filled with both sorority girls and veteran musicians.
The climax of the album, however, is a track where Barnes’ voice isn’t even necessarily the highlight. “Miles to Go” hits hard right from the start. The lyrics tell the story of a journey, and the struggle is felt in the attitude of the electric guitar. “Brother I’ve been walking farther// than any man has ever been// I got these scars on my feet// and I’ve got these bruises on my chin.” Barnes is working hard to get somewhere and can’t help but drag you along for the ride. Add in a killer chorus and a fresh, funky drum line, and voila. You’ve got yourself one damn good song. By the time the track breaks down into just Barnes’ voice, listeners have fallen in love with the beat, the bass line and, as a natural progression, Barnes himself.
Produced by Nashville alum Ed Cash, the overall feeling of Chasing Mississippi is that of a polished, neatly packaged piece of music—it aims to please and there’s not much about it that doesn’t feel planned out and slightly contrived. Cash, who has worked with similar artists such as Matt Wertz and Bebo Norman, is the uber-producer, known for taking artists and making them sound like gold. This isn’t any different with Barnes. Cash matches catchy beats with Barnes’ floating melodies and expressive voice, with the result being 45 minutes of pure fun. Barnes certainly isn’t going to change the terrain of music, but will almost definitely make the journey a bit sweeter.
