Over the past decade, Lainey Wilson has established herself as a Nashville force. The reigning CMA Entertainer of the Year and recently-inducted Grand Ole Opry member has written songs for the likes of Luke Combs and Flatland Cavalry; she’s appeared on the modern Western Yellowstone after having songs of hers featured on the hit series; and she’s steadily released catchy, punchy albums that mash up Southern rock, soul, and classic Nashville ideals into a genre that she’s dubbed “bell-bottom country.”
Since releasing her first full-length album in 2014, Wilson has refined and built on that concept, polishing and expanding the boundaries of her sound while keeping the honest storytelling and all-in singing that powers her best work intact. With her third major-label album, Whirlwind, the Louisiana native flexes her songwriting and vocal muscles, distilling them through a megawatt charm that brings the listener directly into the heart of whatever she might be singing about.
She’s not afraid to take big swings, even if they’re silly; anyone who’s confident enough to declare “Doggone daggummit, didn’t see that comin’/Country’s cool again,” which Wilson does in euphoric fashion on the galloping nod to country’s recent pop resurgence, “Country’s Cool Again,” clearly is happy with putting their whole self into whatever they are singing.
As Wilson notes, country has indeed had a bit of a crossover resurgence in recent months, with Morgan Wallen’s supersize records setting up shop atop the album charts, Zach Bryan turning his ornately crafted tales of small-town life into pop gold, and big names like Beyoncé and Post Malone making their own forays into the genre. If there’s any justice, Wilson’s TV fame will propel her to even bigger stardom; her music has a blend of brawn, heart, and willingness to upend the status quo that’s not only listenable, but also the kind of thing you can’t help but root for.
Wilson’s finely-tuned lyrics and immediate hooks make the feelings she’s singing about feel massive and ready to bring in any listeners for comfort, particularly on the arena-ready drinking lament “Bar in Baton Rouge” (“The good thing about rock bottom/Is up’s the only way/I’m about to open up a can of healing this heartbreak,” she muses) and the keep-your-head-up ballad “Middle of It.” On the latter, she sounds like she could be singing to a former version of herself: “You were heartbroke that boy did ya wrong/Your pride took a hit but you wrote a hit song,” she sings in a sympathetic cadence that’s just knowing enough to imply her intimate familiarity with the situation.
While Whirlwind has its more playful moments, like the strummy depiction of puppy love “Counting Chickens” and the kick-him-to-the-curb stomper “Ring Finger,” it’s at its best when Wilson is in full-on power-ballad mode, showing off how her brassy soprano can buckle at just the right moments. “Call a Cowboy” is a dazzling ode to someone who’s “rock-steady-loaded, locked, and ready” that captures awe in its sweeping riffs and Wilson’s reach-for-the-heavens vocals; she cleverly hides that it’s actually a love song until just before it ends. “Good Horses,” a duet with fellow country disrupter Miranda Lambert, is luminous, with the two singers’ voices braiding as they trade commiseration about how they, too, need to run wild sometimes. And the title track is a love song that feels as big as a Western sky, with Wilson taking the central metaphor and twisting it into the serene declaration that “loving you’s a breeze.”
Wilson has established herself as one of country’s most appealing stars, her blend of songwriting chops and bubbly charm winning over audiences in Nashville’s community and in arenas. On Whirlwind, she lassos her Everywoman appeal and her skills as a songsmith and vocalist into 14 songs that feel ready for repeated jukebox plays at dive bars and honky-tonks all across the country.
Swiftiephylus amator and Swiftiephylus taylorae, two of the bugs named after Taylor Swift because of their blonde and red coloring. Courtesy of Brad Balukjian, Ph.D.