Jesse Daniel goes up several gears, digging deeper with his writing and expanding musically without forsaking his Bakersfield country roots.
As he played the local bars and clubs, Jesse Daniel acquired the nickname “Son of the San Lorenzo”, and it stuck. It is a fitting moniker for a collection of songs that look deeply at the place, the people who live there, and most profoundly, himself, as Daniel takes a long, hard look at where he has been and what lies ahead. From his firm foundations in old school Bakersfield honky tonk he adds the music he grew up with. Rock, whether country (The Byrds, Flying Burrito Brothers), Southern (Allman Brothers), or classic (The Stones, Zeppelin), all pop up here. Recorded live to tape, the sound is bold and rich as Daniel took charge of just about everything from arrangements to writing. This is his best yet and certainly one to feature on those album-of-the-year lists.
Catharsis runs throughout ‘Son of the San Lorenzo’ as Daniel contemplates a past littered with addiction, jail and rehab. He attributes much of his recovery to his partner and collaborator Jodi Lyford. As he admits, “I felt like I was finally ready to stop running and face things head on with this record”, explaining, “I felt like I’d matured enough to go deeper than I ever had before, to try and understand how I got here and where I’m headed”.
Daniel gets straight into his self-analysis with ‘Child Is Born’, its languid tempo as The Steel Drivers’ Richard Bailey’s distant banjo and Charlie McCoy’s harmonica both sound like a premonition. “Looking back on living, from our dying bed/ Will we read a long list of regret?”. The title track puts this question more personally, as Daniel gives his life story in a shade under five minutes. Growing up in the “redwoods and pines” this gently paced piece of classic country moves through bad times as he speaks, “Trouble found me like the hair on my chin/ Each time I’d get clean, it’d just grow back again/ I got strung out and locked up” until “But I put down the spoon and I picked up the pen/ Now I travel and sing with the love of my life/ Proud to say I made that decision right”.
If those two opening songs set the scene and tell the story, the rest of the album goes into detail. ‘He’ is laden with regret, time wasted, and opportunity spurned, yet there is no self-pity. Daniel sings with total candour; the harmonies and arrangements are full of remorse, but he does not give up hope. And rightly so, ‘Jodi’ about his source of hope and salvation throbs with love and gratitude. Pedal steel around this lusciously spaced tribute is country music as it should be.
‘Mountain Home’ contains almost as much love, but this time for place, home in the San Lorenzo Valley. As fresh as the air and sparkling like the light through those redwoods, Daniel conveys pure joy and again, gratitude. In contrast, Daniel also tells a mean murder ballad in ‘The Ballad of Love Creek’, a Southern Gothic tale of dark deeds.
Charles Wesley Godwin joins Daniel for ‘Time Well Spent For A Man’ as together they muse on people and things that mean the most. Vocally, they complement each other perfectly, Godwin deep and mature alongside the youthful Daniel. Those rocking influences of his younger years make themselves known on the raucous ‘Crankster’, a pure driving song, with its power chords to be played loud. In similar vein, ‘My Time is Gonna Come’ evokes that southern rock he grew up with. Confidently, the electric guitars lay down the soundtrack to what could be a statement of intent, “Don’t know where I’m headed next/ But I know that I’m movin’ on/ I’ve got my heart in the way I’m goin’ baby”. Daniel finishes with the aptly titled ‘The End’ as he switches to Californian country rock. Pedal steel flies away as he goes out on a blast of hope and optimism. “Mine the precious moments/ Make the dots connect/ Do it all again” is pretty good advice.
With ‘Son of the San Lorenzo’, Jesse Daniel has gone up several gears, digging deeper with his writing and expanding musically without forsaking his Bakersfield country roots.
