Review: Sara Watkins – Sara Watkins (2009)
Having spent the better part of her young life recording and performing with the other two-thirds of newgrass outfit Nickel Creek, it seems Sara Watkins (and the rest of the band, as well) were ready for a break and each stretched in a separate direction. Some took longer than others; mandolin star Chris Thile had been recording since he was a kid and had likely already begun work on his 2006 How To Grow a Woman Out of The Ground when Nickel Creek issued their final album in 2005, Why Should The Fire Die? The Watkins kids hadn’t been so prolific in their younger years, and over three — in Sara’s case, nearly four — years have passed before either of them mustered the gumption to drop an album.
She’s a compelling fiddler on “Jefferson,” and a good singer on every track on Sara Watkins, but where does that get you? Visit any bluegrass festival and you’re steeped in talent, both on the stage and off, some of it even just gathered around a cooler in a parking lot, sitting in folding lawn chairs. And thankfully, Watkins doesn’t really spend much time trying to re-establish her prowess. After all, the best players know that beauty trumps virtuosity every time, and by “best players,” I mean the ones real people care to listen to.
So, wisely, the album isn’t merely a platform for Watkins to grandstand her fiddling talent and pipes, but rather a songwriting offering. It begs the question: are the songs any good, then? All suspense spared: Not especially. No, really: it sounds sickeningly like another bluegrass record from another bluegrass artist. The main reason that bluegrass hasn’t succeeded in a mainstream sense is because, on the whole, it lacks pop sensibility. It isn’t a bad thing. Or a good thing. It’s just a simple fact. Generally, the bluegrass market is rather clannish and doesn’t have a problem merely entertaining itself and having a good time doing it – it’s really all a charming microcosm of Douglas Adams’ observations on the life goals of dolphins and humans:
For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much – the wheel, New York, wars and so on – whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man, for precisely the same reasons.
On the other hand, the reason Nickel Creek saw success and true artistry is precisely because it did carry all manner of genres alongside, refusing to be pigeonholed (though they no doubt were in many places). So in a very tangible way, this album is a strict step down from where she’s been, because she was born to make pop and progressive bluegrass — quite literally; she was raised in L.A., not Murfreesboro — and, weirdly, the whole act is seemingly put-on. Does the fact that it’s a full-on country record make it less significant? Well, it all depends on how you look at it, and that’s another question for another discussion hall. What it does signify, however, is that when you play on the away field, even one right up the street, you’d best bring your A-game – otherwise, where’s the draw?
The album is intractably smooth to a fault, being that the face of it is mostly studio musicians rather than the muscular presence of three cohesive virtuoso band members. Nearly half of it is written by other sundry professionals, including the album’s highlight, “Any Old Time,” a fantastic rock-splashed cover of Jimmie Rodgers’ classic. As for Watkins’ own songwriting, it lacks spark, and has a hard time making the things-that-make-Sara-tick relevant and digestible. She doesn’t find a way to make her slow tunes worthwhile, and even resorts to saccharine lyrical tactics. At every step, Nickel Creek has already churned out something better: nowhere here can you find things that are as rueful (“Should’ve Known Better,” “House Carpenter”), jamming (“Ode To A Butterfly,” “Smoothie Song”), deferential (“Spit On A Stranger”), darling (“Sweet Afton,” “The Hand Song”), roving (“The Fox,” “When In Rome”), or cutting (“Somebody More Like You”).
At very least, kudos to John Paul Jones for his first foray into country and bluegrass production, but even a seasoned vet couldn’t rescue this album from a lack of inspiration. It’s a shame that Nickel Creek had to end, because if Sara Watkins and Sean Watkins’ (and Jon Foreman’s) Fiction Family are anywhere near the pinnacle of the solo careers of its respective members, it was clearly more than the sum of its parts.
