Artist:     Ned Hill

Album:     Six Feet Above Ground

Label:     Self Released

Release Date:     3.9.2018

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The first riffs of Six Feet Above Ground got me: a little eerie, with more than a little twang and a lanky, down-and-dirty rhythm that latched on to slow my heartbeat; that was “Half Alive,” and I couldn’t wait for the next half to kick in.

Hill’s got some serious songwriting chops, without getting too fancy. He’s not trying to be Bob Dylan or overly clever, but he regularly turns an honest phrase that hits home. “That’s My Story,” for example, tells the story of the highs and lows of (maybe) his own life by tapping into a driving rhythm and what I take for honesty: “White-knuckle liberal-arts anxiety, so I scored a little dope from some SAEs, but wound up on the floor, praying for a resurrection.” It’s easy to picture the scene.

Like many country (or country-influenced) artists, Hill refers to places more often than not, and he cleverly gave us a twofer with “Where Ya Gone Virginia [better get on back to Tennessee].” “Streets of My Hometown” laments the slow death of small town America, where every department store is a Walmart, and every restaurant has a clone in every other dusty town like it, each one breathing its last.

The band leans towards that country sound, but the rhythm section, Jeffrey Perkins (drums) and Johnny Mark Miller (bass), make sure that the bright country beat goes into overdrive when called for. The addition of a string section adds a dimension not usually found on, say, Charlie Daniels’ work, and it adds a touch of sweet or spooky when called for.

Consider the hamburger. Hill doesn’t have the most spectacular voice; his band is excellent but not the Beatles or Led Zeppelin; and his songs are uniformly solid even though Six Feet Above Ground‘s entirety is probably not bound for the Great American Songbook—but together, everything works perfectly. Ground chuck, ketchup and a toasted bun really aren’t brilliant individually, but put them together, and you’ve got a meal to look forward to, lunch or dinner, week after week—and that’s this CD. Take a bite, and you’ll pack it in your lunchbox regularly, I promise.

—Suzanne Cadgène