Micah P. Hinson – The Tomorrow Man (Ponderosa) (13th Floor Album Review)
Micah P. Hinson returns with strings, horns and hope, to deliver The Tomorrow Man, his most cohesive and inspired album in many years.
The elusive singer-songwriter from Abilene, Texas, who now lives in Italy, leans into his crooner tendencies on this, either his 10th or 11th record depending what you value, with stirring orchestral arrangements that both frame Hinson at his most resolute and recapture the brooding beauty of his early work.
Those familiar with 2009’s All Dressed Up and Smelling of Strangers (2009), on which he covered the standards of Sinatra, Elvis and Orbison, may suggest this left turn was always on the cards, but those serviceable if somewhat drab renditions did not hint at this. It feels hyperbolic to suggest The Tomorrow Man soars, given Hinson and his broken-whiskey-bottle voice have built a 20-year reputation from songs of wallowing despair, but these tunes really do rise above. They don’t leave the sadness behind – the frank lyrics and grim grit in his throat remain – but, as the album title suggests, he is moving forward and reconciling his past; his divorce, disillusionment and loss of faith.
Hinson recorded the album in northern Italy with members of Orchestra Filarmonica di Benevento, led by Raffaele Tiseo, with producer Alberto “Asso” Stefana, and all display graceful skill and restraint. Now, when I think ‘’folk singer + orchestra’’, my mind typically goes to Neil Young, and specifically to those two unholy turkeys on Harvest (and I love Neil). When Hinson’s lead single and lead-off track Wake Up, Sleepyhead fires up, and the strings surge, there is a definite moment of oh God, is this ‘’Micah needs a maid’’? But as soon as his voice chimes in, the fears of bombast fade and an amused affection lifts. The song is something of a red herring. Though two different arrangements of it bookend the record – a classic Neil Young move! – the opening version is as boisterous as the orchestra gets. It is followed by the more plaintive I Will Get My Revenge and Think Of Me, which are sustained by gentle strings and fairytale piano parts. They are more representative of The Tomorrow Man as a whole and exemplify why this album is Hinson’s best since Micah P. Hinson and the Red Empire Orchestra in 2008.
The defining and enduring appeal of his music is the contrast of mournful lyrics and gravel delivery against the sweetest, most delicate and seemingly simple melodies he can conjure. It was there from the start on The Day Texas Fell To The Bottom Of The Sea, which most days is my favourite song of the 21st century, and it was intrinsic to every track from his first three albums. As he naturally experimented with more abrasive sonics and ramshackle song structures, his voice often became part of the soundscape rather than rubbing against it. The effect became calamity on top of chaos; a din of black on black. On The Tomorrow Man, the arrangements are more layered and nuanced than the stark guitar work on Micah P. Hinson and The Gospel of Progress (2004) but they accompany his voice to the same reward while also giving us types of Hinson songs we haven’t experienced before.
There is a three-song run at the heart of The Tomorrow Man that I consider its linchpin, raising it from being a very good album to a compelling achievement. The Last Train To Texas plods along like a loyal steed, Hinson’s voice dripping molasses through the microphone, and you’re expecting it to go the way country ballads must – to heartache or death – but then the horns kick in. The song becomes a rousing mariachi lament with a playful tempo that sparks memories of Ennio Morricone scores. It’s just delightful, though still a heartbreaker, and unlike anything else in Hinson’s catalogue. Hallow, the most chaotic track on the album with its thumping drums, stinging guitar jabs and cavernous reverb, is a more measured and more successful grasp of the sound he was perhaps reaching for on 2018’s dour When I Shoot at You With Arrows, I Will Shoot to Destroy You. Hallow is the storm before the gorgeous calm of I Don’t Know God, a quiet forsaking of faith. Above an affecting melody, Hinson’s deep drawl bids farewell with devastating effect: “I don’t love God and He don’t love me / His leaves and trees will bury me.” For those who love the dark stuff, dig in.
After several albums in the 2010s that felt either unfocused or compromised due to injury or issues with his label, Hinson delivered some really strong songs on 2022’s I Lie To You. Unfortunately, that record was filled out with several covers, including, bizarrely, one from his own 2013 Christmas EP, which muddled the tone and overall appeal. In retrospect, it seems like I Lie To You was the promise of what was to come. On The Tomorrow Man Hinson sounds rejuvenated and full of purpose, finding salvation in song. These tunes fit naturally together, threaded through orchestra arrangements that are rich and cinematic but never slick or showy. Like The Gospel of Progress and The Red Empire Orchestra, I expect to keep returning to this album for the rest of my life.
Matthew Dallas
The Tomorrow Man released 31st October via Ponderosa Music Records
