JAMES MCMURTRY > Just Us Kids

James McMurtry established himself as a prophetic, if ornery, political voice with his riled-up blue collar anthem “We Can’t Make It Here Anymore” on 2005’s Childish Things. Now the Texas-based singer and songwriter has moved on to Just Us Kids (and as the similar titles suggest, both albums share a concern with the difficult changes that come with aging and a lifetime of thankless labor). Label: Lightning Rod
[Rating: 3 Stars]

James McMurtry established himself as a prophetic, if ornery, political voice with his riled-up blue collar anthem “We Can’t Make It Here Anymore” on 2005’s Childish Things. Now the Texas-based singer and songwriter has moved on to Just Us Kids (and as the similar titles suggest, both albums share a concern with the difficult changes that come with aging and a lifetime of thankless labor).

McMurtry’s vinegary, deadpan phrasing-which often lands somewhere between recitation and singing-is perfect for delivering the blow of a barbed lyric. His latest 12-song set has a new political anthem, “God Bless America,” (still wryly criticizing the abuse of power, but this time focused on oil greed) and-with guttural power chords and Pat Macdonald’s caustic harmonica wheezes-it’s got the sound of a darker and more muscular anger than the first. That McMurtry borrows from children’s rhymes and biblical references gives it all the more sting: “three wise men in an SUV,” “hush little president don’t say a word…God’s gonna buy you a diamond ring” and the chorus’ demand “take us to the land of milk and honey.” On the heels of “God Bless America” comes a weaker political left hook. “Cheney’s Toy” takes up for the soldiers fighting in Iraq, but-like a couple of other songs on Just Us Kids-is a bit like the plains, heading straight on for a good while with too few changes in scenery.

But there are satisfyingly gritty and dynamic moments, like the roiling guitar groove of album opener “Bayou Tortous” (with C.C. Adcock guesting on guitar), the boogie swagger of “Freeway View” (with Ian McLagan’s piano pounding) and John Dee Graham’s frenetic, unhinged guitar solo during “Fireline Road.” McMurtry’s greatest gifts lie in his potent use of language. Like his father-novelist and screenwriter Larry McMurtry-he can tell a story in a way that’s evocative, human and direct. The devastating realism and nuance of “Ruby and Carlos” is a case in point. All told, Just Us Kids is a tad slacker in spots that its predecessor. But it’s still quite a formidable work with plenty to say.