Annie Keating - Bristol County Tides (2021)

Bristol County Tides is an album born of the pandemic when Annie Keating and her family retreated from Brooklyn to a farm to coast town in Massachusetts. A bit of a culture shock for her NYC-raised kids, the songs, as might be expected, address themes of uncertainty, love, loss and finding what matters most. What might be less expected is some of the musical choices made, such as the Lucinda Williams-like bluesy swagger opener Third Street with its scratchy guitar intro, organ and Richard Hammond’s bass lines, the song an introduction to her new temporary home and its characters, such as local cop Dwayne who “loves to chase the drivers who ride too fast”, Dean who “still drives the ladies wild at seventy-three” and Chris with the “bonfires and barkeep charm” who’s “a friend to everyone except the dude who jacked weed from his garden”.

The groove settles down, while sustaining a bluesy feel, for Kindred Spirit, a song of commonality and empathy on which she sings, “Searching for forgiveness for a crime you never did commit/But served the time for it anyhow…Born into that kind of blue that couldn’t help but shape you/I know I know because I was too”. Keeping it soulful, the slow and steady Marigold finds Americana guitar colours seeping in among the organ swirls, again about making changes (“I lost my shoes and then I lost my way/I got found again the next day/Needed a change from all of that same same/Lit a big fire just to watch the flames”), concluding “Maybe it’s time for no more sad songs/Leave them in the past where they belong” as the track ebbs away.

There’s a similar slow swagger to Nobody Knows, a song of lost love about not being trapped in the past (“There’s a little box locked in my chest”) or worrying about the future (“Cause what tomorrow’s going to bring, nobody knows”) but living for today, a notion that extends into Blue Moon Tide, a Southern spiced steady tribal rhythm stomp with slide guitar that advises “Use the blues like gasoline to fuel the way through the unforeseen/leave behind what we don’t need I’m going to leave behind what I don’t need”.

The pace and mood calm down for Half Mast, a simply swaying number suffused with ennui (“Time is moving slow, thoughts are racing fast/Nowhere to go, flag’s at half-mast…The world turned upside down, we go on just the same/As things fall apart, we carry on”), moving back to a rippling rhythmic lope for High Tide which, with its bluesy guitar solo, continues the image of being lost in some sort of fog but not drowning in it (“I don’t recall the day of the week but I know the tide’s high/ Lost track of hours a few days ago but I know that it’s time. To go for a ride, out on the road and get lost for a while…And forget for a hour maybe scream maybe shout out at the breeze and up at the clouds”), the line “Uncertain times nothing to plan just the moment we’re in” the most direct reference to the pandemic.

The album shifts to a lower gear in the second half, starting with the more acoustic, organ-backed Kindness, a softly sung song about acceptance and friendship, that, specifically referring to her “three seasons spent on Third Street/A safehouse and an exile, a blessing and a trial”, echoes the idea of Kindred Spirit as she sings “Why do I get this feeling you are someone that I’ve seen/ Long ago and in the time of kerosine lamps and vines…I knew you then as I do now, a little kid grown somehow/I trusted you and you did me too, we helped each other through”. That it put me in mind of the Ben Glover song of the same name speaks highly of its simple beauty.

From here we take a trip down to Hank’s Saloon, a local watering hole where “If you’d like to get happy the drinks start at noon”, a waltz-time honky-tonker with Charlie Giordano on accordion and regular band member Todd Caldwell on barroom piano, where you can just cut loose (“I don’t want to stay sober, I don’t want to be good/Tired of being measured doing all that I should”), a sway-along, raised glasses chorus carrying it along with the saloon’s welcoming ambience also a metaphor for being in a comfortable relationship.

A simple fingerpicked acoustic number with pedal steel in the background, Song For A Friend, draws on a reminiscence of leaving her NYC home for another song about making changes (“Had to get out fast, with a fire in the rear-view mirror/Foot heavy on the gas, thoughts stalled and none too clear/Found my way to the river it took a week or two/ For my hands to steady and my feet to find you”), again speaking of commonality in a thank you to those who took them in (“I think I recognize something in your eyes/You offered up an anchor, I offered up a song”) as, again touching on uncertainty, she contemplates leaving once again (“I’ll be gone, gone when summertime ends/Gone before the leaves start falling/I don’t know what things will be like then, when summertime ends”), drawing on the recurring image of the shifting tides, both literal and metaphorical.