John Allen James

John Allen James’ six-song EP Squared is a tour through the enduring appeal of Americana. The music is as familiar as a small-town town square, its structures built from the same materials and in the same style as the most lasting of this genre’s examples. Listeners will hear traces of Bob Dylan in the nasally ho-hum twang of the vocals, but James doesn’t limit his adulation to a single icon. Over the course of these songs he blends the humble vibrato of Willie Nelson, the streamlined monotone of Tom Petty, the bravado of John Cougar Mellencamp, the subtleness of Van Morrison, and the brawn of Lynyrd Skynyrd. 

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These songs provide slight sonic upgrades to its cast of influences: the recordings are clean, all instruments are balanced and tight, and the playing is more precise than the campfire authenticity of James’ forebears. Overall, the music gives an outdoorsy feel, beckoning to open-air festivals where audiences can focus less on the particulars of the music and more on dancing, fist pumping, and singing along with the familiar subject matter (in this case, romantic yearning). James has some poignant turns of phrase (“Let me down easy, break my heart slow”), though these songs aren’t seeking new lyrical ground to mine. Nor are they interested in exploring new musical ground: there’s little stylistic experimentation, otherwise James might draw comparisons to The War on Drugs or Mac DeMarco. These songs come off as capable homages to firmly established tropes.

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While the subject matter here is a little lovelorn, the tempos are upbeat and most of the progressions ride major keys straight through. It’s uplifting music, all in all, and there’s no shortage of an audience for feel-good familiarity. John Allen James has the instincts and skills necessary to keep this particular flame alive, even if there’s no sign of the fire going out. 

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