Review: Will Kimbrough Releases a Self-Isolated Album for Our Times With 'Spring Break'

The pandemic and the resulting halt of the concert market has led to a number of artists using the downtime to make albums. The quality of these albums has been inconsistent, due in some part to what home studios or remote recording access the artist has but more how much the artist is willing to “lean in” to the DIY aspect of the project, embracing the rough edges. Or, you could be Will Kimbrough; Singer, songwriter, award winning producer and multi-instrumentalist. In which case, you can cut a completely professional sounding album while also enhancing the “one-man-band” aspect. That album is Spring Break, out now.

Spring Break is very much a product of its times, from its title referencing a “Spring Break” that has stretched for 9 months, to the loss of a dear friend (and musical icon) to the virus, to an exploration of the wanderlust, new appreciation of home, and political division that have come from forced isolation. Kimbrough co-wrote several of the songs with friends but the album itself, vocals, instrumentals, and production, are all him.

The album has more highlights than could possibly be listed in one review, but the two that stand above all contain odes to friend and mentor John Prine, who died of COVID-19 early in the pandemic, leaving a hole in the roots music scene that all of Prine's disciples acknowledge they can never completely fill. Kimbrough and Prine go way back. The first non-Prine record released by his Oh Boy record label was Kimbrough's short-lived band with Tommy Womack, The Bis-Quits, and Kimbrough has opened for Prine a number of times. So “The Late Great John Prine Blues” is both fitting tribute and an acknowledgment of the grief felt by the families and friends of over 200,000 people since March. “Greatness comes but once inside a very long, long while. But in this case the greatness was the man himself, his smile.”

Another tribute paid to Prine is on Kimbrough's “My Right Wing Friend.” A nod to civility in the face of increasingly nasty partisanship, Kimbrough sings of a long-time pal whose friendship has endured despite political differences. While acknowledging that the era of social media makes the more toxic of friends' views harder to ignore, with Kimbrough singing “we all become exaggerated versions of our parents and ourselves.” But he also emphasizes moments of unity, including Prine's death. “When the virus took John Prine we cried 'there goes my everything.' We're all Sam Stone, alone with our balloons. He ends with a gentle poke at his friend's beliefs, “you know I always love you, though my views will always rub you and I know that I'm above you, my right wing friend.”

Another call to civility (which has been a theme for Kimbrough throughout his career, even on the politically charged Americanitis), is “All Fall Down.” Kimbrough laments that “it all comes around. We will all fall down”, but also insists “we rise, and we fall together. We rise like birds of a feather. We shine through good and bad weather.” With just a guitar and harmonica, it's the song that most benefits from the album's spare production, letting the lyrics dominate.

Kimbrough also reworks a few of his old songs for Spring Break. “Cape Henry”, which both Kimbrough and co-writer Todd Snider have released previously, is the story of a soldier wounded in a Revolutionary War battle. “Philadelphia, Mississippi” is a song from his Godsend album, but fits the theme of wanderlust that weaves throughout Spring Break, though the song's protagonist quickly realizes the old saying “wherever you go, there you are” applies, singing “She came from Philadelphia, Mississippi. She never felt at home there, until she ran away.”

I could go on all day with highlights. Just suffice it to say that the weakest song on the album (“Western Cowboy” for me) would be a feature song for most artists. When I assemble my annual list of best albums, there aren't likely to be a lot of pandemic home recordings, much less in the Top 10, but it's going to take a heck of a last two months of 2020 (and I have presently have review albums stretching into January so, barring a Sturgill Simpson-like surprise, it's not happening) to keep Kimbrough from landing there. Spring Break is the album none of us realized we needed. Sometimes you need permission to grieve and Kimbrough's willingness to put himself out there so nakedly is an invitation to embrace the isolation and loss of the pandemic, but also the beautiful moments of kinship and renewed appreciation for the important people in your life.