Sort of. Can you really be the same girl playing acoustic guitar at church if you’re one of the biggest up-and-coming stars in country music? Dandelion soars when Langley insists she’s the same person she’s always been––and then quickly undermines that idea. Her growth is almost immediately apparent when she takes a page out of Kacey Musgraves’ book, luxuriating in shimmering, spacey arrangements that support unquestionable hooks. The progress manifests in dreamy guitar parts, occasional doo-wop chord progressions, and blocky, thumping percussion. That push-and-pull is just as easily located in storytelling here. Underneath the disco strut and nagging, pun-based chorus of “Be Her,” Langley is obsessed with an idealized, simpler life. “Take all my money / Everything I have,” she offers, wishing she could get back to where she began.
Langley’s mixed feelings aren’t only focused on her surging success. The relationships that are chronicled on Dandelion are often unsurprising disappointments. For those breakup tunes, Langley’s gravely, certain vocals tend to seal the deal. The unsentimental, tossed-off delivery on closing-time ballad “Last Call For Us” elevates a familiar setup, while her breathy, aching approach on “Low Lights” ensures that the melodramatic strings, caterwauling pedal steel, and aching organ all go down smoothly. On both, she sings like she knows better but can’t manage to pull away. And she manages to hold together the bland, mid-tempo songs with her voice, lending credibility to the sluggish “Broken” and the tired “Loving Life Again.” It’s not all doom and gloom, though. Over bongos and backing vocals from co-producer Miranda Lambert on “You & Me Time,” Langley helps the awkward, wordy chorus sound almost sexy.
Langley rarely overshares, instead leaning on subtle and sneaky melodies which often emphasize an unexpected word, as if she’s dog-earing a line that you should return to. Even when it feels like her tales are lacking in texture, particularly on the hometown fantasy of “Somethin’ Simple,” Dandelion arrives with a healthy level of assurance. The thrill of Langley comes from the pull between the comforts of her past and the potential of her future. She wants to write timeless songs, one that’ll be passed down and rediscovered in 75 years. It’s that instinct that leads her to cover “It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels,” the Kitty Wells classic emblematic of the country history Langley hopes to contribute to. Maybe the next country upstart will be covering Ella Langley. [Columbia/SAWGOD]
Ethan Beck is a Pittsburgh-born, Brooklyn-based journalist and critic who has written for The Washington Post, Public Source, Los Angeles Times, and other publications.
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