5^th album from New England-based Americana purveyors, Pawn Shop Saints, is a marathon 45-track study of the harder side of life.

Release Date:  19^th January 2024

Label: DollyRocker Records

Formats: Digital

45 American Lies, the 5^th album from New England’s Pawn Shop Saints, is a marathon and very, very brave undertaking.  A 45-track, digital-only ‘triple’ album, it follows hot on the heels of the band’s acclaimed 2023 offering, Weeds – indeed, frontman Jeb Barry and his mates stayed on in the studio to lay down these tracks, immediately after it was confirmed that Weeds was secure in the can.

And, I describe 45 American Lies project as “brave,” because, at no point throughout this sprawling album is there any concession to refinement.  These 45 songs were recorded without fuss or fix, as Jeb explains: “… [The songs were recorded without] autotune (obviously) and any mistakes were usually left in place.  So, you get to see the scars and all.  And yes, if it sounds distorted or rough, that was intentionally done… hey, with 45 songs, who wants them all to sound sonically similar?”

Hailing from New England’s Berkshire Hills, Jeb Barry brought Pawn Shop Saints together back in 2012.  He’s a prolific songwriter and his work has drawn comparisons to the likes of Steve Earle, Jason Isbell and Drive By Truckers – with a little dusting of John Prine added in for good measure.  As well as writing and singing the songs, Jeb plays guitars (including some pretty cool resonator guitar), bass, keyboards, mandolin and banjo and, for 45 American Lies, he’s joined by bandmates Josh Pisano (drums and vocals), Tony Pisano (Josh’s dad) on accordion and mandolin, Alan Taylor (piano and organ), Dan Tremblay (acoustic guitar and vocals) and Tom McNulty on mandolin, banjo and vocals.

The album’s title perhaps has a double meaning.  The 45 tracks are all based upon imaginary characters and situations – they’re fiction – so they’re essentially lies.  But nudge Jeb just a little, and he’ll coyly admit that the title could also be a not-so-subtle dig at a certain half-witted, combed-over senior US political figure…  Go figure…

I’ve used the word “sprawling” already to describe the content of 45 American Lies, and it’s a word that I don’t mean to use derisively.  45 American Lies covers an immense area of ground; there’s a great deal for the listener to digest but, take the time to do so, and you’ll find that there are plenty of savoury morsels to be had.  Jeb isn’t the most tuneful singer that you’ll ever hear, but there’s a sincerity in his voice that gives any impression that his lyrics might derive from personal experience a whole bucketload of credibility.

And, within these 45 songs, there’s an impressive range of styles and genres to be had.  Americana is Pawn Shop Saints’ stock in trade, and they cover just about every inch and every corner of that broadest of churches here.  There’s lots of southern-styled singer-songwriter material to enjoy, oodles of country rock, servings of coffee-house folk, dashes of new grass and even a few ventures into delta blues and punchy power pop.  On occasion, Jeb and the boys sound like The Band; at other times, you could almost convince yourself that you’re listening to an outtake from Gram Parsons’ GP album and, on at least one occasion, I could have sworn that Jeb had brought Elvis Costello into the studio.  45 American Lies is that kind of album.

Perhaps as an aid to digestion, 45 American Lies is sensibly broken down into three sections – ‘records,’ as I’m pleased to note that they’ve been called, despite the digital-only format of the package – and the set’s highlights are fairly evenly distributed, so I’ll pick out a few.

Starting with Record One, Suburbs is a classic singer-songwriter number that confronts the fallout from a mass school shooting.  Jeb sings lines like “There’s no turning back time, that’s the worst about life.  Nobody cares until it happens to them, so kids keep dying” with true passion and commitment, and the impact is intense and harrowing.  For the folky Cottonwood, Jeb brings a sad story from America’s 1930’s depression to vivid life, particularly when his weepy resonator guitar licks kick in.

It’s the hardships of the present day that provide the subject matter for thoughtful ballad, Repo Man.  Tony plays some nice accordion parts as Jeb delivers a vocal that is reminiscent of Gram Parsons at his most plaintive – think The New Soft Shoe, and you’ll get the idea.  Hallelujah I’m Gone is another folky number, and soothing – in an unusual kind of way – whilst the poppy singalong Is There Anybody Out There? is bright, lush and polished.  A choppy rhythm and a solid bassline provide the foundation for Jeb’s punchy vocal and summery acoustic guitars in a song that demonstrates the versatility of Pawn Shop Saints.

But maybe the real highlight of Record One is the soft rock ballad, Sometimes Angels Ain’t Enough.  Organ, acoustic guitars and piano provide the accompaniment to a weepie number that certainly reminded me of The Stones when they turn their attention to a song like Angie.

Record Two gets off to a storming start with the sultry Black Tar Highway, a murder ballad with lyrics that are as evocative and descriptive as anything you’ll hear from the likes of Annie Keating.  Crashes of electric guitar add to the drama as the song reaches its climax: “Shoes on my feet, blood on the floor – I told them the truth, but they wanted more.  She’s just a girl who never wanted to stay off that black tar highway.”

And just as good is the engaging Alabama Truck Stop 1991, a song that has surely taken its inspiration from Little Feat’s Truck Stop Girl.

Elsewhere on Record Two, Barely Getting By is one of Jeb’s best story-songs, a story of a couple who, unusually (for this album), find contentment amongst the trappings of poverty (and I always like a song that mentions a dead skunk in the lyrics…).  The intimate, lo-fi Iowa is a good example of how gentle guitar and a basic drumbeat is all that’s needed to make a good song complete, and the percussion-led Stars is, quite possibly, the slow-burner of the collection.  Good Company Man is a song with lyrics that will resonate with many listeners, describing as they do the frustrations and sense of futility of being stuck in a dead-end job.  A raucous folk song, drenched in loudly-strummed acoustic guitars, it’s a song that puts its message across with lyrics like: “Dad died at 53, right where I stand.  He worked himself to death.  He was a good company man.”

But, maybe, the most interesting track on Record Two is I Ain’t Here But I Ain’t Gone, a song that considers death, from the viewpoint of the deceased person and lyrics like: “Don’t worry about me, I ain’t lost.  I ain’t here but I ain’t gone” are tremendously comforting.

On to Record Three, and the highlights keep on coming.  Little Pieces is a slow, self-pitying weepie with a sound enriched by some wonderfully mellow bass and piano; Sad Sad Girl is a echo-y rocker, driven along by a pulsing guitar line and featuring a curiously discordant guitar solo, and the life-affirming Toasting Taylor is a boisterous celebration of mortality, with the song’s characters gathering to drink themselves into oblivion to toast the life of a departed friend.  As they say: “Life has a way of kicking you in the face – tonight, we’re kicking back!”

Broke is an anguished folky lament to lost love, with some vivid imagery within the lyrics, whilst Wish I Knew The Devil, the penultimate track of the entire collection is a song that, possibly above any of the 45, has the potential for greatness.  It’s another song that reminds me of the work of Gram Parsons; it’s got great lyrics – “I wish I knew the devil, I wish I knew him well.  I bet he’d be the kind of friend to have my back until the very end” – and, whilst I don’t make this suggestion lightly, I believe that a touch of studio polish would render it unforgettable. 

And the ultimate highlights of Record Three?  For me, they’d be the upbeat new grass of Can’t Stop A Train, with its harmony vocals and intermeshed mandolin and banjo and, best of all, the gentle All The Way to Mexico.  The song is packed with Mexican imagery, the guitars and percussion are perfectly balanced, and Jeb delivers what is arguably his best vocal of the collection.

45 American Lies is a monster.  Like every ‘triple’ album, it takes patience to work through it, but exercise that patience and it will be rewarded.

Get a feel for what Pawn Shop Saints are all about. Listen to Southern Drawl In Heaven, a track from their 2023 album, Weeds, here:

Pawn Shop Saints online: Official Website / Facebook / YouTube

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