I need to start this review with a disclaimer. See, I went to Trouble in the Wind’s first record release party for No Work Dancing at Magee Park in Carlsbad back in, gosh, 2011. The frontman and I worked at a coffeeshop together for three years. I consider us buddies and I’ve always been a fan of his music. And Hammer On is a worthwhile addition to the Trouble in the Wind discography.
Hammer On: An Introduction
That being said, the best analogy I can think of for this album is like hearing Nick Cave and the Bad Seed’s The Boatman’s Call fresh off of Let Love In and Live Seeds. Sure, they had melancholy songs before, but those were individual tracks — The Boatman’s Call is relentless. By that I mean, it’s far from a bad album — it’s just not what Nick Cave fans expected.
Similarly, Hammer On has all of the elements that make up a solid Trouble album: those sun-soaked poignant lyrics sung by Robby, whose plaintive “It’s unfortunate, but this is how it is” vocals remain. In fact, I’d overall say it’s a great collection of songs, written well and the musicianship is a treat to hear. But, there’s always nitpicks and “ehhh” moments throughout albums, so I’m going to go through track by track and tell you my feelings. My very important and worthwhile feelings — believe me.
Lone Starman
The first track, “Lone Starman” is most certainly homage to the late David Bowie. Even before pressing play, it’s obvious from title alone. And that in itself isn’t bad — it’s the implication of the sentiment. “Starman” by Bowie contains the lyrics “He’d like to come and meet us/But he thinks he’d blow our minds.” I assume Trouble’s song is from the titular Starman’s point of view, which is an arrogant stance to take, but, you know, every story deserves to be told — why not his?
But that’s surface-level. This isn’t Bowie’s Starman — this is a “low-down Starman, burning out.” As the song continues, it touches on the main idea of Hammer On: “I thought I knew better in so many situations and I really, really didn’t.” Case-in-point: “I use to have a lot to say/I’m quiet now.” As the song continues, I think it reflects the knowledge that comes with age: blatantly rushing into everything is a facet of youth. I’m reminded of the opposite of Bob Dylan’s sentiment: “I was so much older then/I’m younger than that now.”
And this Starman acknowledges he needs to work on himself and that his youth-exploits weren’t the best. Maybe connections aren’t what he needs right now — just a healthy dose of skepticism.
Touching Down
And yet, the next track brings the Starman to earth as he is “Touching Down.” After all, no man is an island and that refrain resurfaces: “Look in the mirror/So much older than I was last year.” It also deals with writer’s block — something that plagues any writer as they age and wonder if they’ve done it before (maybe I’m projecting). And then he flip-flops the Bob Dylan lyric back to the original meaning: “I’m so much dumber than I was back then.” Even established acts have their doubts and insecurities. Also, the corresponding video should be mandatory viewing.
I Was Haunted
“I Was Haunted” opens great. Maybe I’m a sucker for driving bass lines sans lyrics to set the mood, but it did it for me. The best part of this song is that the specters aren’t spirits — they’re places and people from the past that just appear. Here is probably my favorite lyric of the album: “No more stepping on shadows from the past.” In “Basic Bitch” lingo: “Girl, move on.”
A Man Can Give
I was hesitant with the title, “A Man Can Give.” It echoes the whole “not all men” nonsense. But, I was pleasantly surprised when I heard, “I’ll give you all a man can give — but I wonder what that’s worth.” And, of course, ever-true to Californian roots, the singer contemplates this on the seashore and refers to it as “dirt” — it doesn’t matter where you are: what is a man’s worth, really?
Big Leagues
“Big Leagues” starts with some reverb noise-rock. What’re we gonna get? Then it breaks into some grunge-esque guitar work that makes me wonder: is it the ’90s? And the premise isn’t far off: “Hush, sleeping dogs may lie/But if you wake’em up they bite.” Let’s take a step back and appreciate that poignant pun — lying by omission may still be lying, but maybe ignorance is bliss. Some secrets are better kept or they’re just going to cause a fight. Personally, I’m a confrontational person so I don’t agree, but this lyric perfectly sums up the attitude of the stereotypical laid-back Southern Californian. The title surfaces in a throaty, angry repetition: “Nothing comes for free when you’re in the big leagues.” Welcome to California: everyone wants a piece of you and there’s always an ulterior motive. So what do you do when you’re “swinging your bat for the home team?” Sell out?
Touch and Go
“Touch and Go” is a family affair. The female vocals are Robby’s older sister Lauren. Previously, the duo sang a track together on No Work Dancing where she really belted. As for this one, I’m disappointed; I feel like it was a “throwaway song,” which is a shame, considering the power of Lauren’s vocals and the talent I’ve heard from her before.
Liberty Bell
“Liberty Bell” uses the vocals of newest member Keith. It’s a country ballad in the most traditional sense: in composition, topic, and vocalization. It’s the quintessential ballad — what more can I say? It’s not my favorite track, but that’s only because so many greats have covered this ground before.
Don’t Feel Bad
“Don’t Feel Bad” is probably my favorite track on the album. Robby’s pained singing repeats over and over that he doesn’t want to “make her feel bad.” It’s a two-minute expression of shame at not being able to show the feelings the singer wants to communicate, then ends with no real conclusion: “You don’t want to look now.”
Honest Man
“Honest winds/They just blow you down/You know that you’ve found/It’s true,” Robby croons to a slow, romantic surf rock strum. It’s a country ballad in a beach-side hammock underneath a desolate tropical moon. Mesmerizing and isolating. Kyle’s tooling on the guitar suggests a “But, wait—” that never comes to fruition: “I wanted to/Be with you.” The music resurfaces in a coda that echoes the sentiment, “Maybe…maybe not…”
Orion
“Orion” falls back on the space imagery that pervades the album. It’s an angrier version of the jilted “Honest Man” that feels used after “playing [the] game”…and losing. But, this has a happier ending. A “you” found him and “saw [him] through.” It’s a fun little uplifting ditty in a generally sobering collection of songs, although not a highlight of the album. I guess, in this case, sadness sells.
Tiki Bar
With a name like “Tiki Bar,” a listener may expect something more akin to a Jimmy Buffet island party. But if that’s what you expected, then you haven’t been listening. Trouble in the Wind knows that living in a beach-side paradise sure gives you the ideal scenery, but people are people wherever you go. Sultry horns recall the dismal romance of “Honest Man,” but this is a lusty forlorn lover instead of a hopeless romantic. Who knew heartbreak could be so much fun? And, of course, what’s a drink in a Tiki Bar without a delightful twist?
Fall Guy
The last track, “Fall Guy,” opens with the metaphorical thesis of Hammer On: “I’m on the back nine/Looking for a clean drive/I’ll catch you on the B-side/If I can.” It wraps up a disquieted album with the angry assertion, “If you’re looking for a fall guy/Get some fucking leaves and a rake.” Trouble in the Wind isn’t interested in playing along with the status quo. The chorus is a sing-along if I’ve ever heard one and ends with, “Oh, no. There’s a frog in my soul.” Let’s hope that doesn’t mean anything’s gonna croak soon.
Concluding Thoughts
But if there is anything dying, it’s the notion that life is just another day at the beach. Hammer On is a swan song to the days of carefree youth and the sentiment “no work — dancing.” It’s not music for a house party — it’s the soundtrack to a contemplative beer on your porch by your lonesome before you have to get some sleep for your day job. We hammer on, even as life becomes more complicated and relationships trickier.
Honestly, Robby is too clever for his own good. He makes puns and jokes that I’m pretty sure will go over most people’s heads. But that’s the point of this album: Trouble is making music for themselves and if people like it — cool. Bonus. Cerebral thinkers are going to like it, but it won’t make the pop charts. And you know what? Trouble in the Wind seems okay with that.