Candles lined the front of the stage as Randy Houser joined a keyboardist and three gospel singers Thursday for an evening of hits, cuts, and the celebration of his latest record, Fired Up. The release show took place in a tiny church just east of downtown Nashville, white globes of light hanging from the wooden rafters and lyrics to the album’s 17 songs taped to the walls like excerpts from scripture. Industry friends and family and Sirius XM The Highway listeners sat shoulder to shoulder and ear to dial as Houser sang an old song, “Back To God” – “I don’t think it ever really got heard. Maybe I’ll record it again one day.. It’s something I need to say” – as well as songs from his new album, including “Hot Beer And Cold Women,” “Fired Up,” and his next single, “Song Number 7.” In true Nashville fashion, there was also a bar, which served Mississippi Mules in golden goblets bearing Houser’s name and the image of a church steeple.
The live experience of Houser’s voice has been called a religious experience, and hearing him backed by a gospel choir is reason enough to become a disciple. “Fired Up,” for instance, transcended from cliché-laden to chill-inducing, as the richness of vocal tone in sweeping harmony swelled at the chorus. It was a sonic turn that Houser near-apologized for to the song’s writers, Rob Hatch and Dallas Davidson, who were in the room, noting it as distinct from the arrangement on the record and hoping they’d like it. He joked later, “I hope you’re not bored of this yet,” as if somehow there could be doubt about his deliverance of sonic heaven.
It’s a shame Houser’s record didn’t shape up similarly. There is no gospel moment on the album, which largely follows the theme of his last releases – bold production, dynamic vocals, and a rolling vocal that dances rhythmically across versus and bridges in an almost Sam-Hunt-like swagger. The most left-field song is “Whiskeysippi River,” a Josh Jenkins, Matt Jenkins, and Trevor Rosen (of Old Dominion) song that feels jaunty, rollicking, and bluesy, featuring delicious lines like “tonight I’m a Maker’s Mark Twain.”
“Hot Beer and Cold Women” is another such deviant – thought the production remains decently bold, it’s one of the most stripped moments on the record, letting Houser’s vocal and the incredibly somber lyric shine. A Travis Meadows (“Riser,” “What We Ain’t Got”) and Warren Brothers co-write, the song begins hauntingly: “Hungover / Sunburned / I get it, Lord / Lesson almost learned / I’ll get there / Give me one more night / Yeah, I know I know I know I’ve told you three hundred thousand ninety four times.” “I have to say that I’ve lived that, and it hit me right in the chest,” Houser said Thursday.
It’s one of the album’s several strong moments – when Fired Up shimmers, it shines. The lead track, “Back,” finds an anchor in nostalgia, with tight phrases like “took the end of his life to be thinkin’ ’bout mine” and “did I fill my boots with every step I made?” perfectly capturing retro- and intro-spection. It employs standard imagery, but it’s interesting, capturing that sweet spot between the good old days and wondering if you did, and if you are, living right. “Yesterday’s Whiskey” is stunning, a plaintive lament about a girl that feels one part “Wake Up Lovin’ You” and one part “Whiskey and You.”
Unfortunately, it’s not always with nuance that Houser reminisces. “Senior Year” reads like a laundry list of small town images – chugged beers, girlfriends in letterman jackets, city limit signs. It’s a song that’ll hit home, but feels too vignetted, the sonic version of an Instagram post filtered with sepia and the chorus lyrics – “Running out into the world wide open… senior year” – written in italics and squiggles underneath.
It’s a rut Houser finds himself in again and again. “Same Ole Saturday Night,” which extolls the virtues of a well-worn Saturday night plan, could well represent the album itself’s return to cliché. “Mine Tonight,” for instance, describes a girl that “likes to get a little wild,” while “Chasing Down A Good Time” alleges that “we ain’t got forever, we’re living for the moment.” It’s not a party record – Houser’s vocal is rich with conviction through each verse, each chorus – which places extra emphasis on each of these lines, often with a focus that doesn’t quite match the lyric.
Had the album been shorter, the standouts might have served as pillars for a wholly impressive record, but the more bland songs water it down, not fully doing justice to the strength of his vocal. While it’s a solid release, it fails to wow cohesively, with instead choice moments shining bright.
Rating: 2.5/5