First Impressions: Horses by Tobacco City

Scientists—pseudo or not, who’s to say?—claim they’ve recorded time reflections via a convoluted process that, if translated into sound, might mimic the high-pitched whir of a cassette being rewound or an 33 1/3 rpm record played backwards at 45 rpm speed. All the notes, chords and rhythms would be present, but squished, high-pitched and reversed. Only the most perceptive ears could hear everything.

An easier and more fun method to capturing temporal echoes: Press play on Horses, the new album from Chicago-based Tobacco City, a cosmic country band led by Chris Coleslaw and Lexi Goddard.

Yesterday, while out and about, Diane and I tripped through the decades just by listening to it; the songs ripple from the speakers as if from the days when Gram, Emmy, Linda, Phil and Don roamed the record bins. Coleslaw, for his part, conjures Parsons’ aching tenor at times, while Goddard sews a silk purse from scraps; her velvety hues are reminiscent of Linda Ronstadt’s. Echoes abound, in other words. The music itself recalls the Flying Burrito Brothers both with and without GP, woozy one moment and straightforward the next. No matter your mood, you’re guaranteed to be singing “bye, bye, blues” by album’s end.

The songs imbue angelic harmonies with angst-filled leads, opening with a walk through the small-town life many reading this should remember well. Hanging out generally meant milling about with pals in empty parking lots, behind a store or deep in the shallow woods, where we inhaled cheap smoke and/or downed even cheaper beer procured by someone’s older sibling. Our worlds were seemingly ringed by an invisible fence that bound us to the same-old, same-old, day after day, night after night. What we didn’t understand: The cage existed nowhere but our minds. “Bougainvillea” continues with the hickory wind, this time carrying leaves of regret over how free we imagined ourselves to be when, in reality, we were reckless if not stupid, intoxicated on much more than just the night.

“Time” ticks forth as if at half-speed before blossoming into a sweet ballad that finds Coleslaw contemplating about life, nights and not rushing love. “We’re acting like we’ve not been here before,” he sings, while Jim Becker makes like Byron Berline with a succinct fiddle solo. “Way to Get Out” features both Becker and the band’s Sneaky Pete, Andy “Red” PK, while Coleslaw muses on how he’s been filled with doubt for all of his life. “Fruit From the Vine” finds Goddard in full Ronstadt mode musing about water, wine and time; I’d make a joke about how she’s no prisoner in disguise, but don’t wish to steal from the song’s impact. It hits hard. 

“Buffalo” ups the tempo as if driven by a grievous angel on drums; it features plenty of guitar and a honky-tonk vibe. “Oh, I can see the sun burning across the western sky,” Coleslaw sings while Goddard chimes in behind him. “Colorado” is not the classic Rick Roberts-era Burrito Brothers ballad, though it could well be mistaken for an outtake from that same self-titled gem of an album. “Blue Deja Vu,” for its part, marries surreal imagery to a wistful country sound, while the propulsive “Mr. Wine” chases the blues away with help from the Everly Brothers. 

Now that I’ve thought it through, Horses is less a time reflection than an actual temporal anomaly. On the one hand, it’s an echo of long-ago. On the other, it sounds fresh and new. Some may label it Americana, others country-rock or alt.country. I just call it good. Highly recommended.