The Coal Men - Everett (2024)

The impact of this release might not hit you immediately, with the first listen or two. It could be said that our ears have grown unaccustomed to bands who favor a more simplistic approach – guitar, bass, drums (and the odd hint of piano) – to their craft. Yet, soon enough, you’ll fall hardcore for these three talented musicians – clearly adept in multiple musical genres, bolstered by all the seasoned musical skills and road-cured firepower required to take them far beyond their hometown hero status.

Everett clearly announces that their time for a much wider audience has come. Their sixth release (it’s been 8 years since their last), co-founders Dave Coleman (guitarist/vocalist/songwriter) and Dave Ray (drummer/backing vocals) first formed this band in Nashville, 25 years ago, adding bassist Paul Slivka in 2012. For even the most dedicated of journeymen, this is a lifetime of woodshedding. Yet the payback – their advanced musical maturity – is instantly audible across each of these eleven, highly-combustible tracks.

Triggered by Coleman chancing upon a 1950’s upright Everett piano (a now defunct Michigan-based manufacturer of quality pianos, founded in 1883) and purchasing it from a church in downtown Nashville, provides this latest release with its name, as the instrument adds another sonic element to the band’s sound.

This sound is an amalgam of three well-defined players: Coleman has a captivating, elastic voice which molds itself to each and every song, while he’s also a phenomenal guitarist who’s learned his craft in the time-honored way of studying hard for it. In addition, no less than Todd Snider has called out the calibre of Coleman’s songwriting, claiming him as “one of Americana music’s great songwriters” – and Snider ought to know. Seeing his work celebrated by fellow artists, including the late John Prine, Bob Delevante and Buddy Miller, doesn’t hurt his résumé.

Likewise, Ray does so much more than time-keep – his unexpected flourishes, honeyed harmonies and background singing add significantly to fleshing out this trio’s music. Slivka’s prominent bass work provides a concrete-solid foundation to each and every song – whether it be blues, rock, country or anything-in-between, freeing up Coleman to sizzle on lead as each arrangement permits. This results in these three guys sounding like a much larger band – which is quite the accomplishment.

The slinky “Black Cat” – Everett’s first single – detonates with a distinctive energy, smacking of early Dave Edmunds’ attitude (Love Sculpture era) with its aggressive guitar and rockabilly edge. The harmonized singing adds much and Roy’s drums are beyond crisp as Coleman’s guitar moves from full-on assertive to downright threatening.

The adventurous “Radio Bell” is a stronger song – also pre-released. Ray’s drums punctuate in unexpected ways while Coleman’s gentle, supportive accompaniment on guitar on this lovely ballad, which chronicles the act of being thunderstruck by a mystery woman. Coleman’s uncommonly rich vocals take command while meek background plinks on the Everett and a sugar-sweet chorus offers fat contrast to brawny cymbal crashes and snarling leads, underlining the degree of infatuation.

The comparably ferocious “Rather Be Right” kicks off with the aforementioned rockabilly feel and a vocal sitting halfway between Nick Lowe and Toby Keith. Easily a hit on country radio, its combination of smart lyric, pounding piano and foot-stomping groove reveals a distinctly different shade of anthracite.
“Love This Town” delivers on a universal feeling we’ve all experienced. The good, bad and the ugly of real life is shared with an arresting vocal, softened by harmonies despite its tough guitar posturing. A familiar sense of frustration now has its soundtrack.

The slowed down approach of “Heart Exposed” demonstrates another angle on a solid country track. Coleman’s vocals suggest complete vulnerability while his guitar remains spry and expressive above the band’s solid rhythm section.

While the sentiment is likely sincere, “Come Back Joe” – a tribute to Joe Strummer – might be the record’s only misstep. Its lyrics are weak set, as they are, against a highly non-Clash-sounding riff that’s a dead ringer for Neil Young’s “Like A Hurricane.” That said, the song provides the listener with some of Coleman’s strongest, if not most ruthless guitar work on the record, as the piano and relentless rhythm section drive it home. Which is a shame, as it’s a quality workout for the band.

One might think of the late, lamented Del-Lords as “Johnny Sins” plays out with its tough-sounding, garage-like, driving beat, Bronx-ian sneer of a vocal, ringing guitar barrage and powerful harmonies. An odd, repetitive piano note rings like a bell from the right-hand speaker but this gutsy assault is one of the best on the album.

Who doesn’t love a train song? “I Hear Trains” benefits from Coleman’s guitar chugging along, simulating the slow, repetitive click of steel wheels as Ray’s rhythmic shuffle moves things down the track. A notable guitar solo underlines the power of its subject matter as Coleman’s deep baritone warms and cauterizes the overall effect.

The dream-like “Silver Tails” is a small, haunting track spinning along with its catchy hook which, together with harmonized vocals, an iron-clad beat, thumping bass, token piano and plenty of tremolo’d guitar, demonstrates yet another musical approach in The Coal Men’s roots-rock arsenal.

Easily one of the best songs on the album, “Accidental Memory” boasts the best of everything The Coal Men have to offer: from stellar songwriting and sturdy musical hooks to exceptional musicianship and an overall, confident grasp of what they’re good at (which is pretty much everything, as evidenced across these eleven songs). Strutting a strong pop feel with the added benefit of a fully fleshed-out sound, the band offers something for everyone.

With the low command of a beefy, baritone guitar, “Hammer Like Bill” returns the chameleonic trio to its strong country suit, as Coleman’s deep vocal and Roy’s fat snare set against Slivka’s big-bottomed bass, closes the set with absolute authority and toe-tapping self-assurance. Everywhere, you’ll hear the distant tinkle from the keys of that old Everett piano (it becomes a game to listen for it), as played by a cast of guest pianistas.

Is there any parallel to be made between this hard-working band and their use of a weathered piano as some sort of symbol on their album cover? It could be that, despite the sad demise of the Everett Piano Company in 1973 – after having established a reputation for superb quality – The Coal Men…..some 25 years and 6 albums later….aren’t about to let that happen. Everett proves they’ve barely hit their stride.