It's hard these days to play traditional music with no modern or ironic twist and not be consigned to some marginal concert circuit, with your albums filed away from the heavy retail foot traffic. The four men of Chatham County Line not only play an extremely faithful brand of traditional country and bluegrass, they write their own material in the style as well. While they haven't quite come up with the next "I'll Fly Away", "In the Pines", or "Cash on the Barrelhead", they've done well over three albums capturing the essence of great folk and mountain music.
The band's mostly acoustic approach-- the slightest shades of pedal steel and organ from bassist Greg Readling are the only noticeable electrification-- certainly lends an air of authenticity. The recording on Speed of the Whippoorwill has an inclusive, participatory feel, like anyone with a bow or a few strings to pluck could jump in any time. You could drag an upright bass, banjo, guitar, fiddle, and mandolin to the street corner and play this stuff without amplification, just harmonizing for whoever walked past.
Like their last album, Route 23, this one contains two fantastic instrumentals that showcase the band's thoughtful interplay and impressive fingerwork-- "Savoy Special" goes for speed, while "Brice's Crossroads" is quiet, almost meditative, centered on trembling mandolin lines. Main songwriter Dave Wilson has penned a fine set for the band this time out, and his voice has the warm nasality needed to get his prison and mining narratives off the ground. Chugging numbers like "Company Blues" and "Coming Home" are fun, but the ballads are the album's meat.
"Waiting Paradise" follows a sickly child's progression into a soldier at war with an evocative melody, backed by a drifting, improvised arrangement. The two-part harmony gets a portion of the last verse to itself for one of the album's most arresting moments. A quiet organ enlivens "They Were Just Children" and its story of a father exploiting his sons' talent and ultimately losing them. "By the Riverside" hits between the two extremes, arriving at a loping two-step that gives John Teer some room to move on his fiddle.
Not every song is perfectly written, but the playing generally picks up any slack in the compositions. The album ultimately feels like a casual good time had by musicians genuinely connected to an era when a lot more people played instruments and your neighbors were likely to know all the same songs you did. It's never going to be in style, but it'll never sound passé either, and Speed of the Whippoorwill is timelessly enjoyable.
