Again, it’s been a hot roughly 6 million minutes since I last reviewed an album here—by the same guy. And you really oughta have it, for much the same reasons as then. But let’s catch up a bit first. . . .

Since the wonderful Lands and Peoples (my favorite from his now 15-plus-year “high-desert [New Mexico] period,” after starting out in the ’90s in Athens, GA with his full and life-changing band Vigilantes of Love), the ever-profilic Bill Mallonee—I mean, we’re talking close to 100 albums at this point—has kept on cranking them out.

One release in particular from the past decade bears pointing out, as it directly informs this new one. His 2022 release Here It Opens with a Prayer, but It Closes with a Song was fueled in large part by some significant health issues Bill was facing. And nowhere was that more apparent than the closer “Whatever’s Left of Me Now,” which for my money is his best song since the heartbreaking yet life-affiming “Bank” from 2005’s Permafrost. Haunting and haunted, it was the sound of someone who wasn’t at all sure this wouldn’t be his last song (of course, we never are, but) . . . “so, for now, we wait.” The strained howl at the end gets me every time. But to all our reliefs, survive he did. And the initial musical response to that was the roughly two dozen of the songs that make up the majority of (this version of) Glimmer, a deep if sometimes still dark sigh of relief and a deeper appreciation of life as it comes.

But even the album itself has had quite the road to travel. Initial crowdfunding efforts to get this thing out on CD failed, and so Bill put it out as a 22-song download-only releasein 2024. Then came last year’s Trailways, which did make it to CD—in turn fueling another attempt to give Glimmer the treatment it deserved. This time the good guys won and won big, and as a result the initial release is now expanded to 29 songs (plus alternate takes of two of the new ones). In essence, Bill added an entire album to the original—some leftovers from the original Glimmer sessions, some newer—to an already hefty release, resulting in the longest album you’ll probably ever hear that isn’t called Sandinista. 😀 And it’s all from the past 2–3 years. (Told you he was prolific.) So let’s get to it, and suffice to say I won’t be talking about every song. . . .

Bill Mallonee. Glimmer. 152 minutes (that’s not a typo), 2CD $25 + shipping, or download Glimmer 1 or Glimmer 2 from Bandcamp.

It’s worth noting that there’s a bit of difference between disks 1 and 2. The first feels a bit more organic, loose, and cohesive, while disk 2 is a bit more faster-then-slower (as well as higher-and-lower—hey, it’s 150-plus minutes, kids; it was gonna happen). Nonetheless, the phrase I come away with here is after taking it all in is “deeply satisfying”—especially knowing what it took for this album to finally get its due, both physically and personally.

For those who know their Bill (and those who don’t), at this point in his career most of the Neil Youngisms that were in the forefront in his earlier high-desert period have faded into the background (the “Down by the River”-ish standout “Scarecrow Heart” from disk 2 notwithstanding), replaced largely by a more swaying rock-country sound. It’s clearly Bill’s own solo version and vision of Americana now. (Vigilantes of Love, of course, was quite another.) Also, not sure what it is exactly, but this new version sounds decidedly warmer that the original download version, so kudos to whoever worked that out.

Disk 1 does have its standouts, starting with the wry optimism (or perky pessimism) of the opener “Not Enough Bandages in the Infirmary”:

There are people you will hurt
there are people you will heal
there are treasures you will stumble on
while out walking in the field
And the malaise runs deep
Deeper than eyes could see
and there are not enough bandages
in the infirmary

The spectre of mortality that was all over Here It Opens . . . still makes regular guest appearances here, only now for the most part Bill just tips his cap and walks on, as with “The Other Side of the Veil”: “You can call me a heretic, ah, but I don’t know / When everyone sees love’s banquet, they’re all gonna wanna go . . . / Didn’t no one ever tell you, the undertaker overtook? / This side of the veil.” Likewise, “You’re Gonna Be Alright” marvels (along with its subtitle), “It’s been a year like no other / I’d go as far to say: ‘Ain’t it been a life?'” And as he adds quite directly on side 2’s “Walk on the Razor’s Edge,” “There’s nothing like mortality / to throw in sharp relief.”

The first disk also benefits from a few looser moments that break up the mid-tempo toughmindedness (both featuring some playful harmonica work near the end), particularly “From Pillar to Post” (that rarity of rarities, a sub-two-minute Bill Mallonee song ;)), and the acoustic, darkly humorous “Crickets (Off the Cuff & the Fly)”:

Now, Thomas, I hate to barge in here like this
but things are about to get rough
And if wounds are what you’re looking for
Well, I hope 5 are enough . . .

I hear the nation capitulated to the darkness & the dread
to hacks, charlatans & demagogues who painted their towns “red”
Waving Bibles rarely opened, and much less even read . . .

And how can you not love a song entitled, “One Day I’ll Be Your Answer, Dear, but I’ll Be Your Question First” (some nice, gently psychedelic Fetal Position/Perfumed Letter-era touches at the end of this one, too)?

And speaking of Thomas, there’s ample faith-in-the-midst-of-doubt (and vice versa) throughout, nowhere captured better than in the original disk 1 closer, the gently chugging “Put My Finger In The Wound When I Had To”:

All the voices at the table made me think I might be dammed
And the instruments for navigating were salt-rusted & jammed . . .
I needed something bracing
I needed something beyond 5 senses
I needed something to awaken me—just like what Jesus calls us to.
So, I stumbled thru the night
& I rejoiced in the day
& I put my finger in the wound when I had to.

So onward to disk 2, and since the highlights speak for themselves I’ll let them. By and large it’s the faster ones that win out for me, although among slower ones I’m also partial to the ballad-y “The Self-Inflicted Kind”: “These are the days of slings & arrows and paying dues / And I can tell you’ve dodged a few / If you catch me walkin’ wounded / cross on over to the other side / ‘Cause most of these wounds are the self-inflicted kind.”

The obvious “single” (well, 1 of 2, but I’ll get to that—interestingly, both have a hitting-the-road theme to them) is the (no pun intended) driving “Nothing Left to Do, Pretty Baby (but Turn the Key),” another paean to moving on:

Truck’s all packed, can’t find the words.
Coffee cup perched on the dashboard;
We did our best & we did what’s right
We had moments bathed in O’Keeffe light
Till days got rough & times, they got lean…
Nothing left to do, pretty baby, but turn the key

Hearts got heavy; they dropped like a stone
Hope shakes hands with the great unknown
I knew my lines and I knew my part
Till a nation died and it all went dark
Locust years & hearts got mean
Nothing left to do, pretty girl, but turn the key.

My favorite “deep cut” on the album, though—and the one I’ll be playing at open mic at the end of the year for my “this year’s music recap” set—is “Levee.” The richest-sounding of all the songs here, it also comes with some extra helpings (even for Bill) of loss, logismoi (look it up), and quiet dignity:

Bolt upright in the middle of the night
sweatin’ bullets thru my skin
Is that you. Panic, my old friend
How’d you let yourself in?
Is there something we need to talk about?
or are you here to test my mettle?
You know, I’m not made of such stern stuff
Is there some business we need to settle? . . .

well, the levee’s gonna break
and she’ll hardly make a sound
earth & water kiss & mingle
as we beat it to higher ground
swept away like leaves
tiny boats in the tidal wave
She’s making no distinctions
between the sinner & the saint

You play the hand that you were dealt
Don’t pay it any mind just how you felt
Ever since God knows when
How’d ya’ wind up on the losing end?

The original closer, “Bordertown,” is another slow elegy to new losses, new beginnings, somehow surviving all of it, and for that matter being in the middle of all of it with the one you love:

Wipe the dust off of your neck . . . border town
Remember to forget . . . border town
You whisper but never shout.
Most folks long ago got out.

Time goes backwards to go forward
Everyone waiting the coming of the Lord
Every new start’s a dead end . . . border town
What’s unspoken? Is deafening . . . border town
Wipe the dust off of your neck.
There’s a risk with every bet . . . border town

It all trails off into ether, each & every phrase
Ah, but every morning I awake.
Baby, I’m amazed
And I wish you’d stick around.

That said, I’m really glad Bill chose to end the new version on a more optimistic and decidedly lighter note. The title of the “other single,” the rather fun “Park Your Feet Upon the Dashboard (and Enjoy the View)” is probably self-explanatory, but for those in the audience who may need more convincing by now, it’s the sound of someone who’s ready to pack up the guitar, deal with the vagaries of touring, and go once more into the breach:

it’s time to gather up the pages
It’s time to change the tubes
Time to dust off the old cases
and change a string or two
Who knows how the miles change us
and who cares if they do?
Park your feet up on the dashboard
and enjoy the view . . .

Be it thoughtful and articulate
or be it loud as hell
It’s been known to take down a few fascists
And ring clear as a bell

You could it a fool’s errand
You might call it one big crutch
Life is trying to get the sound man
to turn the damn monitors up . . .

Hey, have you ever seen a day like this?
Those skies are oh-so-blue
Park your feet up on the dashboard
and enjoy the view.

Need a traveling companion for this rough and joyous thing called life? I’d be hard-pressed to think of a better one. Heck, he’s been there for me enough times in the past few decades (and even in person on a couple occasions, and the last song gives me hope for yet one more visit to my part of the high desert of Colorado, only this time Western Slope instead of Front Range). But hey, click those Bandcamp links and find out for yourself.