The word “legend” gets bandied about far too casually these days. However, in the case of Willie Nelson, nobody will likely raise an eyebrow if we trot out the term or others like it. The effortlessly cool outlaw-country pioneer has spent the better part of six decades cutting an iconic figure—bandana and braids with a red, white, and blue guitar strap holstering old “Trigger”—while relating tales that make us laugh and weep in a warm, lagging baritone every bit as recognizable as the voices of other American greats like Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, or Bruce Springsteen. He’s a tireless performer, a gifted interpreter of the American songbook, and a matchless songsmith who has captured the complexities of the human condition in lyric and melody time and time again. At ninety-three years old, Nelson’s new record, Dream Chaser, suggests that this redheaded stranger sees no point in stopping anytime soon.
The opening title track makes for a rich reintroduction to Nelson for those who haven’t listened to his recent flurry of studio recordings. He and Trigger ride into town with a steady, bouncing breeze of Americana backing behind them. Nelson’s voice, gruffer than some might remember, soon returns to its familiar tone, like grime being wiped away to reveal a beautiful, underlying patina. Like much of the album, Nelson considers the passage of time and takes a long look back at the road that’s brought him this far. However, he always seems to be just as concerned with what lies ahead as with what gets lassoed by his memory. “Last night, a new song came to me / Faster than I could write it down,” he recounts. “Sometimes I wonder if there’ll be another / Then another comes around.” It’s not a sigh of relief that blows through that final line but rather one of genuine curiosity. Not even Nelson knows how long the magic can go on.
Many of the album’s most compelling moments do find Nelson wrestling with the past, but often in ways that deal squarely in the present. “Too bad I can’t change tomorrow / Or go back and change yesterday,” he laments on the lonesome, lilting “Wonder What I’m Gonna Do,” earnestly asking what comes next after a lifelong love has faded. There’s a touch of Arlo Guthrie found on “We’d Make a Good Movie,” as Nelson climbs out of the saddle and into the director’s chair. The accompaniment swells cinematically as he imagines his own longtime relationship playing out like the romances he’s seen on the silver screen. Ironically, “I Don’t Think I’ve Cried Today” might be the song in this collection most likely to coax tears from listeners. “Maybe it’s a start / To start tearing this heartache apart,” suggests Nelson, his voice meandering in classic Willie fashion. “And to learn to live with your memory always around.” It’s a song about healing rather than pining or regretting, the protagonist finding hope in a casual smile, a landed joke, or the simple realization that a day has come and gone without tears.
As always, he has brought along several familiar faces to help transform the ideas behind Dream Chaser into a proper Willie Nelson album. Longtime producer and co-writer Buddy Cannon once again rides shotgun, and songwriter Bobby Tomberlin rounds out several tracks. The comical “Whiskey Wants Me To” gives us a playful break from crying into our beers, and “After All” lets Nelson’s assembled band cut loose on an album that’s far more prone to quiet reflection than boogying. Fans will be eager to finally hear “I Can’t Read Your Mind,” a song that began with Nelson and Bob Dylan kicking around the brilliant opening line: “I don’t know how to read your mind / The letters are too small.” Unfortunately, the song never finds its emotional footing like the best of Dream Chaser does. Elsewhere, Nelson lends a gorgeous vocal to the borrowed “Long Overdue,” his voice mingling perfectly with keys, steel guitar, and longtime bandmate Mickey Raphael’s soulful harmonica. “Some call it luck / Some call it faith,” ponders Nelson. “But I call it something that obviously just had to wait,” giving us all hope that love might finally catch up with time.
Nothing on Dream Chaser will surprise Nelson’s longtime listeners, nor does he need to change horses as he nears the other side of the stream. Country fans once followed him from Nashville to Austin in an act of rebellion that favored authentic, genuine expression, and they’ve kept coming back because those same qualities have aged as fine as any bourbon Nelson has sung about or imbibed. Dream Chaser might not go down quite as smoothly as the best of his classic efforts, but it’s still a rewarding reminder that the miles spent in pursuit of a dream are worth all the potholes and dead ends along the way. [Legacy]
