Album Review: Bury Me in My Boots by The Cadillac Three
Fairly Good, Based on 4 Critics
Classic Rock Magazine - 80 Based on rating 4/5
Tennessee roots-’n’-rock trio get it right with forward-thinking new album Bury Me In My Boots For a nation without a real ‘country’ scene of its own, the UK has developed a healthy taste for countrified rock. But one group in particular have bridged the gap between sun-kissed country tones and harder stuff; pleasing the (largely older) Skynyrd aficionados and younger rock listeners. Enter The Cadillac Three, three Nashville-fried school friends, formerly known as American Bang (the ill-fated result of a frustrating tenure with Warner Bros Records) before going independent and merging country roots with the heavy venom of a young Metallica.
It took the Cadillac Three some time to finish their second album, Bury Me in My Boots. Its first single, "The South" -- a bro-country singalong celebration featuring Florida Georgia Line and Dierks Bentley -- came out in 2013, a full three years before Bury Me in My Boots finally hit the stores, and each of those subsequent years saw a new single: "Party Like You," another bro-country stomper, in 2014, followed by "White Lightning" in the new year, a ballad that has nothing to do with George Jones' classic of the same name. Such activities suggest the Cadillac Three had some difficulty finding either their voice or their audience, and Bury Me in My Boots doesn't do much to dissuade that notion.
“You can take my truck, take that ol’ blue hound / Take that barn in the back, burn it down to the ground / There’s more to me than an F-150, a dog, and a couple bales of hay,” Jaren Johnston declares at the onset of “This Accent,” close to the end of “Bury Me in My Boots,” the sophomore set from Nashville trio the Cadillac Three. Wait: No truck? No dog? Next you’ll claim you’re not crying into your beer mug over the girl that done you wrong. Actually, that’s true.
Whither the bro? After a half-decade of radio dominance, country music’s party-hearty dudes are loosening their grip on Nashville. Blame (or thank) the rise of tough, smart female stars like Miranda Lambert, Brandy Clark and Maren Morris. Or call it a cyclical thing: Eventually, every rager stalls out in a puddle of stale backwash. In any case, turn on country radio in 2016 and you’ll hear bros toning down the talk of trucks and Daisy Dukes, and freshening up their sounds.