Chuck Melchin, no longer picking beans, is mining old gold in this backward looking celebration of new nuggets.

A MYSTIC MASH

There is something about this sort of relaxed mountain music, crafted in the US of A, that seems unable to be fashioned anywhere else in quite the same way. Terroir, don’t they call it? The Bluest Sky, the name, may be unfamiliar but we know the name behind it, if loosely, via his last operating name, Bean Picker’s Union, provider of niche nuggets for those prepared to dig deep. Each are essentially outlets for one Chuck Melchin, a music lifer with an effortless seeming feel for that mystic mash up between country, folk, rock and more. With more than a nod to the Dead in Workingman’s mode, this sort of jamband looseness imbues all he touches with a lazy feelgood, ripe equally for either a back porch smoke or a bar room boogie.

ELECTRIC BEANS

Melchin has been ploughing this sort of furrow for a while, predominantly with BPU, the loose-knit collective and vehicle for his musical meanderings between 2007 and round about 2021; we reviewed his/their retrospective round-up, Greatest Picks, in that year. With The Bluest Sky there is a move more to a plugged-in stance, a more muscular version, if still retaining a similar vibe. This is the second release under that name, congregating, alongside Melchin, a cast that includes Jabe Beyer, Jen Gunderman, Andy Santospager, Jess Fox and Dave Westner. Gunderman, as will have already been clocked by some, was once a Jayhawk and is currently Sheryl Crow’s go to for keys. Melchin writes the songs, sings ’em and plays guitars, mandolin, banjo and additional keyboards.

A CHOOGLY CHUG

Magpie starts with stridently struck guitar notes, over a choogly rhythmic chug. Nothing new or original, but always a potent way to announce intention and grab the ears. Drawled semi-spoken vocals imbue a saddlesore and dusty familiarity. An organ simmers, initially in the background, ahead nipping in for quick bursts between the words and, when allowed, the soaring guitar. When done well this is catnip and this is done well.

Rolling piano then imparts an Allman-esque charm to Stelwagen. Like a favourite battered old denim jacket, this is a style oblivious to fashion, slipping in and out the zeitgeist whenever the taste returns. The title track burns a little more gas, as it slips into a faster lick. The bass strides up and down, as the drums patter for their life, steel guitar casting some rays over the proceedings. The vocals, still lazy, still languid, invite unspoken yeahs, as references to banjos and Lucinda get dropped in to the lyric. That Allman aura is still there for the taking, as twin guitars take a quick bow.

RAGGEDY-ANDY TIMELESSNESS

Finish Line retains the same homely feel, there no need here for any new directions. A hint of Friend Of The Devil inhabits the raggedy-andy chorus of this one, and who can resist that, the drums all of a clatter, as if in agreement. Dobro dampens down According To Plan into a mellower and more acoustic mood, the organ adding some wistful melancholy. I love this sort of anachronism, eschewing all fashions and conventions.

Isabella is a further grind down through the gears, with a Shakey Zuma taste about the gait and timbre of the narrative. I guess this sounds all of a certain age, and maybe of most appeal to those there first time around, but I would defy that too easy a notion; this would surely please a packed Betsy Trotwood full of young urban cowboy hipsters. Jabe Beyer, by the way, is behind the soaring guitar you have been enjoying.

MASS SEDUCTION BUT MESSIER

Please Come Home channels, and if we are still going full pelt for references, let’s mint ’em, early Eagles with a touch of Poco. Messier, of course, that essential added ingredient of mass seduction. Snowbird ups the avian further, following on from Magpie and the title track. A further resonator rich wallow in the maudlin, make sure you have a beer to weep in to, as Melchin excoriates himself with regrets, steel guitar on hand to extract the max, as it ends on a quizzical. But no time to answer, as The Motel is then racing for the end. More chuggy than any number of cut rugs, if you followed the earlier imbibitory instruction, this could well find you now staggering to your feet.

To close there is a delightful return to the Bean Picker terroir, mellow acoustics. The final bird in the sky, this is White Belly Bird. Mandolin and fiddle, the latter from former member of that band, Jess Fox, on octave violin. Quite unlike most of the fare preceding, it is hard not to see it as at the star turn, were that not to take away the undoubted pleasures within the more electric band. Any which way, it is the sweetest icing on a cake that is already fit for any gourmand gluttonous for a table piled high with rootsy vibes.

DIG IN!

Try a big ol’ slice; this is Isabella:

The Bluest Sky: Website

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