When Orville Peck says his costumed, faceless identity is not a gimmick nor a persona, I believe him. After ascending into the mainstream after his debut LP Pony, Peck has only grown as a figure of interest – initially, for his enigmatic image, and secondly, for his captivating music. But as time goes on, Peck has proven the latter eclipses the former with ease. Any would-be gimmick here is not the main value of what this songwriter has to offer. Orville Peck is complex and holistic, a trait far too rare for many artists these days. He remains self-confident and assured. Listeners aren’t left in the dark on what he’s trying to say, but he approaches these subjects with such respect for art and language that he avoids being any sort of propagandist.
I’ve remarked that country is one of those rare genres that cannot be innovated without fundamentally becoming something else. Add in more electric guitar and harder drums and you drift toward southern rock. Ease up on percussion and you get closer to bluegrass territory. Change tempos, modal harmony, and lyrical content too much and you find yourself elsewhere entirely.
Bronco, Peck’s newest album, manages to honor 60s and 70s country and marry those sounds into a modern context. But to pin it to a single genre, across its three-chapter cycle and nearly-54-minute runtime, would be unfair. There’s a stark cinematic vision here (cemented by a host of videos), and nothing seems too risky for Peck to try.
As for the three-chapter release of the album, it’s been a strategic move. I’m not a big fan of singles, and three-song EPs get wearying quickly. But here, fans got just enough of a look at the album to get enticed for the whole thing. “Daytona Sand” and “Kalahari Down” show very different sides of Peck and are indicative of just how diverse Bronco is as a record.
But seeing the album in proper order recontextualizes things. “Buddy, we’ve got major blues,” Peck notes on “Daytona Sand” as he laments a failed relationship, not playing lives, and wanting to leave Florida for Mississippi. It’s a sentiment that feels even more powerful as the album’s opener, taking the audience through Peck’s bitter pining.
“The Curse of the Blackened Eye” follows after, opting for a bit of a classic country sound, with “uh huh” vocal tags and a yodel-like falsetto during the chorus. Peck’s range shines through these songs perhaps more than ever before. Musically, this track is more restrained and subtle than its bombastic predecessor, but it’s not exactly a ballad, either.
In terms of tracks from the latest chapter, “Lafayette” is quite a frenetic piece with choppy, unpredictable rhythmic breaks that interject a decent amount of chaos into a musical bed that is part Latin groove, part Fleetwood Mac. “One of these days I’ll be done with regret, didn’t think it’d take me this long,” Peck reflects. It’s fractured-yet-beautiful, and additional guest harmonies really round things out. It’s a picture of the complex emotions that surround looking back on relationships – desire for what might have been, sadness for what isn’t, and anger for what ended.
“C’mon Baby, Cry” is a track about being a relational pillar and entering into someone’s pain. On first listen, I struck me as more commercial than what I was used to from Peck, opting for a more commercial sound than his past work. But this is a testament to his songwriting and the overall production at play. There’s a glittery, vintage vibe at play adorned with instrumental subtleties that augment the Vegas-y vibe. Once again, Peck easily wields his range in full display. It might be the most mainstream track, but it definitely has a distinct appeal.
“Iris Rose” is another third-chapter entry that has a bit of an Appalachian flair, paired off with a bit of brass for full measure. In some ways, it’s not too far off from Sufjan Stevens on the instrumental side.
I’m convinced “Kalahari Down” will be one of my favorite tracks of the year. It recounts Peck’s South African childhood, loneliness, dreams, and dead ends. It’s laced with strings and lyrics that wrecked me emotionally on first listen. The apex of the track sees Peck belt the following:
Where do we go? Mendocino?
Maybe some day I’ll get to see all
The places like Torino’s never been
The song ends on a crushing thought: “Tell my mother I’m nearly done.”
Peck channels Elvis on the album’s title track. It’s a rock-tinged country track with plenty of rambunctious personality that, while still showing hints of pain, feels like the turning point of the album. Indeed, it sits at the perfect center of the album.
“Trample Out the Days” plays off melodic motifs of “Curse of the Blackened Eye”. But it picks up with more optimism and ambition. It’s not necessarily one of the best tracks off the album, but it works as a powerful narrative device.
Likewise, “Hexie Mountains” isn’t loud or wild. It’s arguably the closest to bluegrass that Peck comes, with prominent banjo and ruminations about Joshua Tree National Park. Once again, Peck proves his ability to shift between genres with ease, even if not every track is an instant hit.
“All I Can Say” is the album’s duet closer, featuring bandmate Bria Salmena as a proper counter to Peck’s powerful baritone. Salmena plays a prominent part, effortlessly tackling the first verse before trading parts and layering harmonies with Peck. Bronco ends almost abruptly on “All I can is goodbye”. No fanfare. No fireworks. No perfect closure. All that’s left is to put it all behind.
Like most albums of this scale, Bronco is patchy at times. The front half hold most of the action and more memorable songs, while the second half slows a bit and largely plays toward sparser arrangements or more straightforward types of songs. Even so, Peck’s ambition and creative spirit are not hidden. The record feels more balanced and consistently more interesting than its predecessor. The highs are highs; the lows are more bearable. There are loud moments. There are times you’ll find your ego shattered. But at the end of the day, Peck is not content with the status quo and is perhaps ushering in a new standard. And it’s not too late to get on the bandwagon.
This was a fantastic review and, I feel, accurately echoes the sentiment of many listeners.
Peck has–in my opinion–always been a chameleon. Sure, he’s country. But he’s the Smiths; he’s Elvis; he’s Dolly; he’s Whitney. Ultimately, he’s Orville Peck. He is the culmination of his talents and inspirations. His previous works showed listeners what Orville Peck could do. Bronco let everyone know who Orville Peck was.
Excellent review. Excellent Album.
Hey, thanks for taking time to read and comment. I love how you phrased it, that Bronco lets everyone know who he is. And honestly, while it may not make the most cohesive album in some ways, it makes for the most genuine album. Few committed artists are inspired by one genre or medium, so why stay myopic with what you create?