The world is about 6 months into a newly developed state of living. Depending on where you call home, many of us are knee deep in this murky era, pressing on only to summon back a sense of normalcy which at this point, still seems to be a far gone future. Yet, we have seen time and time again that these periods of struggle and crisis seem to feed into the music machine; time and time again we look to art for a place of comfort and rest, and to make sense of a new ‘everyday’.
One such a contributor to this phenomenon is contemporary troubadour Joshua Lee Turner, who has released his second album Public Life, recorded almost entirely on a 4-track cassette, and mixed at his Brooklyn apartment.
First glimpses of Turner arose, for many, online via an array of eclectic covers posted to Youtube, from his breakout viral video, 'Sultans of Swing’ in 2012. Turner also makes up one half of American folk duo, The Other Favorites, with longtime collaborator Carson McKee.
Although great art tends to be measured not only by what someone creates, but with who they surround themselves with, Public Life shines a light on the solo strengths Turner has to offer as an independent musician.
“The vast majority of the work that I’ve released is cover material. I’ve struggled a lot with how that fits in to the broader narrative of my life as a musician, of what a musician’s role is in the world… one way that I read it was ‘I’m just a copycat, I don’t have the creative spark, I’m not as good as any of these people who’s work I’m covering, whatever good means, I don’t have the integrity that they had, I don’t have the ability to create something new that other people can connect with’”
So, in taking a step back from Turner’s collaborative and cover material, Public Life holds its own masterful integrity that will excite discerning listeners of unique composition and intellectual prose.
The record summons musical threads sewn initially at the beginning of the folk revival of the 1960s, with contemporary 2020 musings of home, relationships, and professionalism.
Turner, now nestled alongside my most cherished of artists, uses Public Life to reckon with time. Voices and sounds of old are conjured into a new light, creating not only a new aesthetic, but a whole new musical journey altogether.
Each track on the record made its way into the world on a weekly basis, accompanied by a film clip of the performance, adding to newly accustomed behaviours of music experience in a world locked down.
Track 1: Introduction
0:50 - transition between section A and B.
We begin with ‘Introduction’, a 12-string instrumental that sounds like morning. True of both its title and harmonic affect, the track introduces listeners to the musical dialect which continues to unfurl as the album develops; like the swell of a wave, it plays with dynamics in such an organic way, each slide and knock on seems to cite each ripple or current you’d find out at sea. In fact this theme of water is something that became so clear to me here, ‘Introduction’ is a prelude to the aesthetic decisions Turner is yet to make on the record, it gently guides you into the water, rather than hitting you in the face with a quick flash of cold pain. Take your time here, warm up in the sun a while, close your eyes.
Whilst the fullness of the 12-string seems to hold the timbral responsibility for the track’s warmth, it’s equally weighted with sombre cadences. There’s this idea that whilst morning brings hope and light to a new beginning, it also marks the end of the day before it. Time and movement will always bring with it equal shares of hope and sorrow, I guess that’s just the natural ratio of things.
Track 2: Nebraska Dreams
“New wounds seem to bleed the truest ink”
This track is like a watercolour painting. Each layer fits into the grander scheme of things, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. ‘Nebraska Dreams’ is a taster for Turner’s style of production, not only is there an ear for composition, but there is an ear for how to create appropriate contexts for sounds to truly shine.
The tasteful staggered entry of sounds gives way to a sort of stereo painting, which is why by the end of the track we’re not faced with the muddiness of a thick, flat, wall of noise.
‘Nebraska Dreams’ is a testament to Turner’s treatment of natural reverb and the understanding of how certain instruments behave in a room. We have the cleanness of a thumb-picked steel-string, which doesn’t necessarily harshen the attack of bass notes, rather it articulates them in equal fashion to the plucked top strings in the track’s main riff. There’s also the stereo panning of a nylon guitar line, which adds a rounding softness to the mix, supported further by brushed snares and bottleneck slides of the fender’s signature country twang. Gorgeous.
What we get on this track is a soundscape which culminates teachers of the past, and breathes new life into the foundations of western folk laid in the 60s and 70s. Links with artists like Gotye are probably among the least logical connection at face value, or in this instance, sonic pallet, but here we find very similar musical philosophies embedded within two very different artists; the allusion of bygone eras of sound, and repositioning said sound in the modern musical world as we know it. Turner re-introduces sound within his own sense of originality and experience in such a vibrant and celebratory way. Public Life doesn’t reside upon the well-trodden path of mimicry or poor compositional subversion, rather it aligns musical histories and the fantastic legacy that sound has the ability to be a vehicle for. We all have a song which reminds us of home, this album is an extension of this very idea, toying intelligently with familiarity and uniqueness.
Tack 3: Like Lightning
“In love you don’t fear dying”
I like to think of music as my greatest teacher. In it I’m introduced to so many people, ideas, and emotional articulations that otherwise may have laid dormant and unknown. Yet in new music, I also see similarities and create my own sonic lineage which continues to guide me though my own tapestry of taste. ‘Like Lightning’ has become an incredible checkpoint for me; in it I’m able to trace a narrative so personal and particular.
In the same way that we all have a song that reminds us of home, we also have our own favourite millisecond of our most beloved tracks. You know the moment where you have to alert everyone in the car that said moment is coming up, and you end up shushing people and talking overtop of it ‘accidentally’ so you start the song again and demand silence until said bit eventuates? No?
Well, there’s a few of these moments in ‘Like Lightning’.
The first being the playfulness of the track’s time signature, mixed with the absolutely superb intent of maintaining a solid tempo throughout the almost mathematical reorganisation of rhythmic subdivisions and feel, from simple to compound. Each transition from 6/4 to 6/8 is absolutely marvellous, and gives further weight to my long held belief that the greatest songs are written with a 6/8 feel (and in drop D tuning).
‘Like Lightning’ is home to some of my favourite Josh Turner lyrics, which brings me to my second moment of choice. I suppose what keeps drawing me back to music like this is to be embraced truly in this style of lyricism and poetry, that lies somewhere between the allusions of nature, growth and childhood in the works of Aussie musician Josh Pyke, and the haunting metaphors tangled in the depths of 90s alternative rock, toward the almost spiritual works of Jeff Buckley.
I suppose it’s a take on calm in chaos, through connection. Especially now when everything is up in the air, Turner’s exploration of modern connection in this track seems at least to me, reminiscent of Buckley’s ‘Grace’ from 1994. I might be missing the point completely here, but hey, music is subjective and how lucky are we to realise other people’s work in our own lived contexts?
Suffice it to say, ‘Like Lightning’ is brilliant and definitely a favourite of mine.
Track 4: Belle
“You know there’s more inside you than just whiskey”
‘Belle’ is a lesson in the effect of rhythm guitar. The main riff includes such a tasty palm mute, it’s hard not to bounce your knee to this one.
It also opens up for the warmth that a nylon focus has on a track. I don’t think it’s ill-informed of me to say that the majority of well known acoustic guitar lines are those graced by calloused fingers on steel strings, so this realignment to a more classical feel of the nylon is refreshing to the ear. There’s a softness to both the attack of each sounding string, and a warmth to its natural sustained resonance, creating a softness akin to Turner’s buttery tenor.
These videos are also gorgeous in their own right; if you’ve ever felt so inspired to pick up the guitar to put in the hard yards after listening to a Josh Turner classic, I think it’s time we collectively as an audience also pick up the slack on forgotten percussion that Turner has so graciously bought to our attention in this clip alone. I’m talking the body of your guitar, shelving units and Tupperware. These sounds work so well in the mix that you wouldn’t think twice about seemingly auxiliary percussion, rather, you’d probably be more in tune to the track’s killer bass groove.
Track 5: 319
“I’ve never seen the cold as such good company”
The vulnerability in 319 is capturing from the get go. Sit down to listen to this one. Really take it in, you won’t regret it. There’s an old soul here, a veteran serving words which seem so beyond what we generally expect from a twenty-something year old.
The structure of an album is so important, it’s what separates a complete body of work from a compilation. Whenever I write about album structure, I look to the development of themes or overarching narrative, of which, (broadly speaking) in this instance refers to home and the intricacies of society which at times render us all a part of something larger, one entity roaming the earth — like an album I suppose. Or, at other times, it leaves us shattered on the floor, alone and disjointed — like a compilation. So I when I write to the structure of an album in a physical sense, I automatically avert my gaze away from the pen and paper, and catch the light of the record player and countless vinyls that line my walls. ‘319’ is the end of the A-side of Public Life, complimenting the sunny morning on the record’s ‘Introduction’, ‘319’ serves as an afternoon setting. There’s a melancholia which seeps through not only delicate falsetto phrasing that carry some of the most intimate poetry in the album’s entirety, but also through the orchestral treatment of the guitar.
This song is one that I will return to in years to come, its meaning shifting and further tangling itself within my own experience. There’s something to say for songs that you grow into. Grief, heartache and loneliness are part and parcel of growing up, and whilst no two lives are the same, growth and change is something that every living being goes through. I’ve always found comfort in songs that recognise this because I turn to music to understand where I am in the world, how I got there, and how to move on. So whilst I don’t hope for harder times, I do take comfort in that ‘319’ may very well become a sonic refuge, like so many before it have been.
Track 6: Public Life
“I’m a zealot and a hypocrite, just like I’ve been told to be”
What a cracking way to introduce the B-side of this record. The energy has shifted to a more electric feel, whilst still maintaining the familiarity of Turner’s voice, like velvet. The overall tone colour of this track is one that taps into Turner’s rockier side, with his virtuosity taking flight over really tight solos and a melodically independent bass. The mix on this track is my favourite of the record in full; allowing a new found appreciation for the impact analog recording still has amongst a digital era of music-making.
As the title track of the album, ‘Public Life’ acts as a kind of thematic summation of this independently created body of work. It deals with the line between public and private, in the midst of a career as an artist, dependent on the trajectory of social media and self-marketing online. With this must come the big questions of authenticity and integrity. It’s a strange thing, in The Authentic Path podcast, Turner described his career as a sort of two-way mirror. So yes, whilst his musical presence and development has been documented over the years though his work in the Other Favorites and via his presence on YouTube, this garnered sense of connection and resonance although powerful, valid, and important, doesn’t translate to real-world relationships at all.
The narrative which ‘Public Life’ speaks to isn’t limited to the perception of relationships from a stage, it’s a commentary on the very public life that we all succumb to. Staged authenticity and the hypocrisy of living online — there’s most definitely a niche of people who reject this idea of life altogether, but at the same rate, our yearning to belong leaves the majority of us at the hands of competition, oneupmanship, and marketed superiority.
Track 7: Smoky Sunrise
“Guilty of guilt, sick of the sickness”
So we’ve covered 60s Western folk, country, 90s alternative rock, and now we arrive at ‘Smoky Sunrise’.
The chord progressions which make up the crux of ‘Smoky Sunrise’ follow an alternating pattern, each inversion showcasing what combination of pitches are possible if your hand can stretch across 5 frets.
There’s this melancholic feel that seeps through again, but this time it reveals itself as an organic, moody groove. There’s a haziness about this track, which in no way is directly linked to the mix, which is as clean as ever. There’s blues here. I think that’s where the haziness comes from; smoky is really the perfect word for it if you were to go as far as to try and define this kind of sound. It’s the combination of intimate poetry doused in a sort of earnest acceptance of the drudgery of a professional life; hitting the doldrums in the wake of creative stagnation. Seems quite meta, in the scheme of things. It’s really quite fantastic.
Track 8: Nostalgia / So Far So Long
“It’s been a pleasant surprise, to find that time has been a suture”
There is roundedness to open tunings, and a sense of perceived familiarity in sound rears its head once more. What many find in open tunings are new realms of sonic tapestries, albeit entwined with the familiarity of the fullness an acoustic guitar captures. I guess I’ve always found comfort in this fullness, that I rarely had time to take in any melodic decisions. Yet here, we have disarticulated melodies that exist within this familiarity which alters our preconceived conceptions of what an ‘accompanying’ instrument can offer. Turner’s vocals and guitar playing become equal voices.
This track also plays with the points of tension between tranquility and restlessness. Lyrically, I think this is one of the strongest tracks on the record, but perhaps I’m just partial to art which references temporality and how tight a grasp we let it have on ourselves. This wistful motif is then further defined by brushed snares, wet reverb and focused treble on the fender, through to the gentle harmonic outline, courtesy of a subtle bass riff.
But the spectacular journey this track has proven to evoke doesn’t conclude with the prose, the bridge and outro sections of ‘Nostalgia / So Far So Long’ are breathtaking, for lack of a better word. Listen to it.
Above all, this is authentically Josh Turner. This is unique. This is an extraordinary composition of sound; glorious melody after glorious melody, which rests upon an almost esoteric, psychedelic, folk/rock-fused soundscape.
Track 9: Denouement
2:20 - introducing the telecaster
It is so refreshing in a world full of noise and words, that instrumental music continues to thrive. Whilst the term may often conjure classical discographies and with it, render it arguably less approachable to contemporary ears, Public Life as an album may rekindle for some, an appreciation of the instrumental, and for others, feed a hungry flame.
‘Denouement’ meshes together a myriad of different eras into one. The reappearance of the nylon string invokes an almost baroque feel, in tandem with it’s Bach-esque melodic contour and phasing, it’s reminiscent of a lute sonata. It’s a study in harmony for the nerd, albeit resides in a sonic realm which holds its own as a standalone piece of beautiful, modern music.
The seamless incorporation of electric bass, electric guitar and a traditional binary verse/chorus structure returns this piece to the present day. The two conversing acoustic lines delicately mixed in stereo further saturate Turner’s intricate and direct intendedness in his playing and compositional style. He knows each instrument through and through, ‘Denouement’ is a wonderful example of both Turner’s understanding and respect for each timbral quality that dribbles from Public Life in full. It’s a celebration of musical intimacy, and an outstanding one at that.
Track 10: At Home
0:25 - descending progression
Here we come full circle. With the warmth of the morning sun that was brought upon us by the album’s introduction, we arrive at a cooling evening. You know those really hot days when you walk past a brick house and the warmth of the day continues to radiate from the structure? Take that feeling, and chuck it into an instrumental. Spectacular.
Still, that sombre tone resonates, as with most endings, but there is a kind of gentle acceptance here. It’s a comforting sound, a resolution without anxiety. A musical place of rest and solace.
I suppose it draws together the ideas of the album in its entirety. In Public Life, we move away from the more traditional balladry and linear storytelling on A Good A Place As Any, and toward more so an organic development of themes. There’s certainly literal allusions to the life of a touring musician, the ebb and flow of loneliness and overbearing noise, but I guess this album leaves just enough out so that these ideas can be grasped and applied in our own independent lives.
Then again, I may be overcompensating for the fact that I just genuinely love the sound of a drop D tuned guitar.
Final Thoughts
Public Life is album about exactly that, a musical contemplation about the facets of contemporary life.
Nina Simone once said that it is the artist’s duty to reflect the times. So whilst Turner hasn’t yet come out with a single called ‘Covid-19 really sucks’, Public Life is an exploration of the altering of a worldwide sense of normalcy, as well as the familiarity with those things we have maintained in a locked down year.
“The magic moment is when people stop saying ‘this sounds like …’, that’s the moment you become authentic… That’s what I’m working towards, and that’s what authenticity is to me; it’s trying to leave a legacy that is at least a little bit unique. No idea is ever truly original, but when you can take the sum of your influences and refract it though your own identity in a way that feels even a tiny bit new, that’s authenticity.
All of these influences both genre-bound and artist-specific all culminate in a fresh and exciting aesthetic that is so integral to Turner’s sound. A sound that is so Josh Turner, and Josh Turner only.
Public Life is proof of an authentic artist.
Public Life: https://linktr.ee/joshualeeturner
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/joshua_lee_turner/
Thanks so much for this. Competent engagement with Turners work is a gift.