“American Romance” (Sony Music)
By Eleni P. Austin
Making music is in Lukas Nelson’s blood. It’s practically a biological imperative. But it’s also the family business, and that can be tricky. Nepotism is often considered a dirty word, but if you have the goods to back it up, ultimately, it shouldn’t matter that your dad (rather famously) makes music too.
But Lukas has never run from his musical heritage, he embraces that legacy. Born in 1988 to Willie Nelson and his fourth (and final) wife Annie. He spent his childhood on tour buses, surrounded by musicians and copious amounts of weed. His earliest memories include performing alongside his brother Micah, as soon as they could walk. Joining their dad onstage, pair added percussion to classics like “Whiskey River” and “On The Road Again.”
His family split their time between Hawaii and Texas. Honoring a birthday request from his dad, Lukas began learning guitar as a kid. Much to his mother’s dismay, he started smoking pot before puberty hit. He fully pissed her off when he took some to school. An indifferent student, he asked to join his dad’s band at age 13 and began touring full-time as Willie’s rhythm guitarist.
Following his stint in his dad’s band, he attended Loyola Marymount College as a music major, but ended up quitting school again. Spurred by his love for Neil Young, he formed Promise Of The Real with his pal Anthony Logerfo. (The moniker comes from a lyric in Neil’s song, “Walk On.”) After a couple of line-up changes, the band cemented their sound around 2008. A road dog like his dad, Lukas and POTR toured relentlessly. An eponymous debut was self-released and appeared in digital form in 2010. Two years later, their sophomore effort Wasted arrived.
Their fan base began to grow, and they paid their dues opening for heavy-hitters like B.B. King and John Fogerty. Finally, at the 2014 Farm Aid show, POTR jammed with Neil Young, and the five-piece gained some national exposure on live television. Neil recruited Lukas and the lads to back him on his 2015 concept album, The Monsanto Years. That alliance extended on the road. The band eagerly memorized at least 80 Neil Young songs. Their prowess is on full display on Neil’s live Earth album. They were on-hand to back Neil at the historic Desert Trip concerts and still managed to find time to release their third long-player, Something Real.
They finally signed with a major label, Fantasy Records (once home to Creedence Clearwater Revival Dave Brubeck and Vince Guraldi). 2018 saw the release of Lukas Nelson & The Promise Of The Real. Around the same time, actor Bradley Cooper was directing and co-starring with Lady Gaga in remake of A Star Is Born. Lukas co-wrote eight songs for the new film. The soundtrack was nominated for seven Grammy Awards, winning two. They also won an Academy Award for “Best Song.”
Between 2019 and 2023, Promise Of The Real released four more albums, Turn Off The News (Build A Garden), Naked Garden, A Few Stars Apart and Sticks And Stones. The following year, the band announced they were going on an indefinite hiatus. Now, Lukas has released his solo debut, American Romance, produced by another second-generation all-star, Shooter Jennings.
The album crackles to life with “Ain’t Done.” Part slow-cooked lament, part pragmatic spiritual, it’s powered by stately piano, strummy guitars, see-saw fiddles and a thunky beat. Lukas stacks his vocals as lyrics unspool some hard-won wisdom: “If everything stays sweet just like it is, or if I’m ever thinking ‘bout calling it quits, I reach down deep inside my soul and I remember something I was told/God ain’t done with you, every time you win, every time you lose, there’s a guarantee with every evening sun, nothing lasts forever and God ain’t done.” Seraphic guitar licks wash over churchy piano and shivery fiddle on the break, magnifying the lyrics’ almighty intent.
For better or worse, Promise Of The Real was considered a Jam band. On his first solo expedition, Lukas seems intent on coloring outside those lines. Take “Outsmarted,” which feels like a nod to his Country roots. Grand Ol’ Opry flavored fiddle, keening pedal steel, chunky guitars, Honky-Tonk keys and sturdy bass lines are tethered to a loping beat. But the ornate instrumentation is almost window-dressing next to lyrics that are equal parts verbose and concise. From the first verse: “I raced around the setting sun and found out how the west was won, manifested destiny with liquor and festivities,” to the last: “My beard won’t warm me in the cold, it just betrays my age as the years unfold, when I was younger I had clever lines that now reside beside my eyes, I hid my heart high on a shelf, I managed to outsmart myself,” He leaps down a rabbit-hole of regret, contrition and introspection.
Meanwhile, “Make You Happy,” could sandwich nicely between John Denver’s “I’m Sorry” and Firefall’s “Just Remember I Love You” on any mid ‘70s AM radio playlist. Sun-dappled guitars partner with lush keys, mellow bass lines and a relax-fit locomotion beat. Lyrics like “Send you letters through the mail, often times the postage fails, return to sender, I don’t mind, I’ll deliver it myself this time/I know what you’re thinkin’ ‘bout now, you’re thinkin’ that I’m never going to come around, I just wanna make you see, all I wanna do is make you happy,” feels like something of a kissin’ Country cousin to his dad’s hit apologia, “You Were Always On My Mind.” But the soulful chorus, bolstered by sugary, shang-a-lang guitars seem to substantiate his sincerity.
Then there’s the guitar-driven “Born Runnin’ Outta Time.” An anthemic Rocker, it echoes antecedents like Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen and John Mellencamp. Hard-charging guitar licks are matched by buoyant bass lines, slippery keys, a tensile back-beat and shimmering pedal steel. Lyrics limn the endless disconnect of life in the fast lane: “Road life took my better days, I’ve tried living in better ways, you might say, say it’s kinda late to start/So tired, hurtin’ myself to get inspired, wish I had a way to get higher that didn’t outpace my heart.”
The album slows for a couple of deft duets. “Friend In The End” and “Disappearing Light.” The former finds Lukas partnering with Sierra Ferrell. Whispering wind chimes lattice braided acoustic guitars, sidewinder pedal steel, loose-limbed bass and a chugging back-beat. He sings the verses, as doomsday scenarios offer camouflage for emotional upheaval: “Last night I woke up to a raging river, that tore through my house and doused all my clothes, and I called out for you, I was cold and shivering, a sliver of light where my happiness grows.” She drifts in on the expansive chorus: “And the clouds blew south and the rain thinned out and the sky was all sunlight again, I guess I just found me a friend, I think I can call you my friend in the end.” Bendy guitar notes and high lonesome pedal steel intertwine on the break.
On the latter, he joins forces with singer-songwriter Stephen Wilson, Jr. Bramble-thick, gut-string guitar licks brush up against courtly, Spanish-tinged riffs, hushed keys, angular bass and a hiccupping beat. Lukas’ reedy tenor is juxtaposed by Stephen’s gritty phrasing. Loquacious lyrics offer up a mordant meditation on love and loss: “Crash to simplify the situation, burn to purify the naked lie, entropy is breaking down my patience, everything I know will go in time/I watch a meteor go by like a hallelujah highway burning diesel in the sky, and I watch the fire flying by and I fear the disappearing light is mine.” The momentum gathers speed on the break, as filigreed fretwork builds to a crescendo and then powers down ahead of the final chorus. The pair join together on the final line, repeating it like a mantra or a prayer as the arrangement accelerates one last time.
The best tracks here hopscotch across the record, beginning with “Pretty Much.” Shaggy acoustic guitars collide with burnished electric riffs, spectral pedal steel, darting piano notes, wily banjo, sly bass lines and a propulsive backbeat. A sweeping declaration of love that boasts a killer hook, lyrics chronicle the ebb and flow of a forever romance: “When we lost our furry friend, we caught each other’s eyes again, said it might be finally time to make another life/And you led me back to the room closed the blinds against the blue, turned the light inside you on, not waiting for the moon.” A sparkly guitar salvo nimbly revs and retreats across the break, paving the way for the epic chorus: “Pretty much fell in love right then, I never had a doubt again, and if we’re still holding hands in the end, surrounded by kin, and if they ask me when, I pretty much fell in love right then, I pretty much fell in love right then.”
“All God Did” anchors a surprisingly muscular melody and arrangement to lyrics that are apocryphal and slightly Dylanesque. Rippling acoustic guitars tangle with teetering fiddle, scattershot electric riffs, sturdy bass lines and a jittery beat. Lyrics present the eternal struggle of good against bad, ambition versus sloth, integrity over hypocrisy, as a journey of self-discovery, with temptation at every turn: “I fell into a wasted crowd and drove myself to drink, and in the early mornin’ hours thought all that I could think, my image of myself became the me you used to know.” With the deity and demon at his shoulder, the chorus becomes a benign battle for a soul: “And all God did, was smile a little bit, and all the Devil did, was chew his dip and spit, he chewed his dip and he spit, he chewed his dip and he spit.”
Finally, “Montana” blends delicate, finger-picked guitar with airy strings, painterly keys, fluttery fiddle and willowy pedal steel. Lukas gets his yodel on, as lyrics pine for a lost love: “I’m still in Montana in my mind, mountains of memories I can’t leave behind, I never quite let the evening sun set in Montana.” Meandering pedal steel and prickly guitar intersect on the break, before a final, plaintive invocation: “And I know you know I love you, I know, but even so, I sing to the wind, so you can hear me again, through the mountains between.”
The record’s final triptych of tracks brings things full circle. “The Lie” is a spiky roundelay that adroitly illustrates the tug-of-war between career and family: “Come here Kid, here’s a story for you, you’re defined by what you do, no one ever made it staying home with the kids, and if you ain’t winnin’ you ain’t worth shit, peace of mind comes when you’re dead and gone, if you can’t see that, you don’t belong”
The title-track is a nuanced narrative that weds liquid arpeggios, sepia-toned bass and quicksilver keys to a brushed shuffle-rhythm. The lyrics cycle through love, loss, heartbreak and resignation reaching an epiphany on the mournful chorus: “Time won’t tell, it never says a word, I only wait, and I can’t say I wait too well, every day the same old arrow on a string, sings it’s way from heaven’s bow, and I swing safely over hell, safely over hell.”
The album closes with one of Lukas’ earliest songs, “You Were It” was written at age 11, and his dad loved it so much, he recorded it on his 2004 album, It Will Always Be. This version is stripped-down and bare bones. Just Lukas and his guitar. His idiosyncratic phrasing eerily echoes his dad, but lyrics like “You were sly, you were fast, built to last, and you lasted ‘til the end, and when we’d fight, I’d cry, and lay down and die, and then get up again, you could kill, you could hurt, bring out the worst in everyone you knew, but no one could bring out the worst in you,” display a wisdom that belies his age. The final refrain says it all, “But now I’m fine, all the pain is gone, I once had a heart, now I have a song.”
For his solo debut, Lukas was ably assisted by a cadre of pickers and players including Corey McCormick on bass and acoustic guitar, Matt Chamberlin and Chris Powell on drums, Eleanor Whitmore on fiddle, Brian Whelen and Anderson East on acoustic guitars, Wes Pahl on pedal steel, Marty Muse on dobro and Shooter manning the synthesizer. Lukas played acoustic and electric guitars, piano and banjo.
Lukas acquits himself nicely on his first solo outing. American Romance has added new colors and textures to his sonic palette. He has also revealed himself to be an eloquent and erudite wordsmith. Ironically, both Lukas and Willie are up for a Grammy in the Best Traditional Country category. Lukas insists they aren’t competing against each other, but alongside one and other. Whatever the outcome, this record is definitely a winner.
