Blue County Pistol’s “Under Cold Country” is a perfect autumn listen

The band’s debut EP presents an intoxicatingly modest blend of indie-rock and folk.

Leaves are changing color, crisping, and falling from their warm-weather perches all across Madison. Aromas of cinnamon and pumpkin spice waft over the city’s hotspots as gusts of wind carry those scents to passersby. Fall has unmistakably arrived. And, as always, the seasonal change deserves a fitting soundtrack. Emergent Madison band Blue County Pistol’s debut EP, Under Cold Country, is perfectly suited to that task.

For years, the music that I’ve most closely associated with fall has been a contemplative mix of indie-rock and folk, often—but not always—driven by acoustic instrumentation. Some standouts in this respect have been Okkervil River’s 2005 breakout Black Sheep Boy, Bright Eyes’ 2007 triumph Cassadaga, Saintseneca’s 2014 breakthrough Dark Arc, and The Weakerthans’ entire discography. And now, there is Blue County Pistol’s Under Cold Country, a band and EP that make a valuable addition to the twang-forward tweak of that formula that’s become increasingly popular both locally and nationally. (See: The Spine Stealers, Big Thief, Them Grant Charles Boys, Waxahatchee, Dusk, Kevin Morby, Free Dirt, etc.) What helps Under Cold Country stand out is that it perfectly splits the earlier (2000s-to-mid ’10s) and later (mid-’10s-to-current) iterations of the indie-folk/country subgenre by incorporating the swampier aesthetics of the latter, while holding true to the acoustic modesty of the former.

“Like You Always Do” launches Under Cold Country with an intro section that boasts an uncanny echo of Bright Eyes’ Cassadaga single “Four Winds.” Blue County Pistol manages to establish an effective balance of the familiar and the fresh from the jump, a tried-and-true dynamic that has been shown to keep listeners emotionally and intellectually engaged. The band holds that balance through the EP’s five tracks, each of which taps into a cozy, almost nostalgic level of warmth. And given the depth of experience within the band’s personnel, their success in conjuring something so specific and so consistent shouldn’t be too surprising.

Blue County Pistol’s members include Jasper Nelson (on acoustic guitar, harmonica, and vocals) and Vincent Dunn (on bass), a duo that eagle-eyed readers may recognize as members of Mission Trip. Luis Acosta Jr.—an occasional Tone Madison contributor and rotational member of Graham Hunt‘s band—mans the drums, Gunnar Schmitz (who has worked for or with WSUM, Wisconsin Union, The Daily Cardinal, and Frank Productions) plays guitar, and Mac Saunders completes the group as an additional vocalist. They blend seamlessly. 

Helping the core band round things out is a stellar list of guest musicians: pedal steel guitarist Peter Brigg (who also played on the recent TS Foss record), veteran fiddler Len Springer, and Armchair Boogie‘s resident banjo picker Augie Dougherty. Disq‘s Isaac deBroux-Slone produced the record in tandem with the band, and is directly responsible for both the concept of the outro section of “Not Forever” as well as the track’s exhilarating guitar solo. It’s a stellar all-around cast that pulls from various corners of the music world, a decision that pays dividends across the EP’s commitment to genre-blending.

Even with the members’ and guest contributors’ individual accumulated experience taken into account, Under Cold Country feels like the product of a band that’s much deeper into their career than a mere year and a half.

Take the melancholic “Johnny & June,” the EP’s gorgeous penultimate track. A restraint elevates the material, evidencing the type of trust among the band’s members that can be difficult to achieve without the benefit of years of direct collaboration. No one overplays or over-dramatizes their instrumental sections or the song’s emotional bent, yielding a track that lingers in the memory, rather than one that just entertains in the moment. The same goes for “Not Forever,” the EP’s quietly insistent, MJ Lenderman-esque second track.

“Not Forever,” like the majority of tracks on Under Cold Country, ambles along at mid-tempo, leaning into riff-forward acoustic instrumentation to produce a windows-down, open-road feeling. “Would you tell me that you love me? / Because I’m thinkin’ that you do,” intone Nelson and Saunders over a chorus arrangement that increases in volatility as the song progresses. The pair conclude the song’s lyrical narrative with a heartbreakingly descriptive vignette of romantic yearning: “Because I don’t want to waste away the daylight / I’m singin’ songs just to tell you how I feel / In the morning, well, I know that you’re leavin’ / If not forever, just a while.”

Like the EP’s musical arrangements, the lyrics feel familiar, even lived-in. On closer “Honey, I Know,” the introductory vocal melody parallels Jason Isbell’s “Stockholm,” and the band once again paints a picture of love in conflict. “If you don’t need me / Oh, well, honey, it’s alright / Because I know” goes the chorus, with verses slipping in subtle metaphors about losing consistency. It’s a delicately presented quandary, and the rise-and-fall dynamics of the composition heighten the feeling of stability slipping. Mirroring musicality and lyrical narrative to that extent is an impressive feat for any band, let alone one who hadn’t released anything publicly prior to this September. 

“Oh, Rosie,” Under Cold Country‘s centerpiece, is a nice encapsulation of what makes the EP work so well. A beautiful acoustic guitar figure opens the song, with Dougherty’s banjo providing a perfect, gentle complement after a few measures. And then, the song kicks into a mid-tempo jaunt with Acosta Jr.’s shuffling drums pushing both pace and energy. “Oh, Rosie” is an amalgamation of diverse influences, ranging from Big Star’s intricate power-pop to Alex G’s warped bedroom pop, making plenty of room for a number of folk- and country-leaning classics and contemporaries.

“I’m taking pills just to see how far I’d go / Would you tell me if you’re scared? / Rosie sits on the front porch, head in the clouds / Says she wishes we could fly,” sing Nelson and Saunders together, just ahead of Schmitz’s blistering guitar solo. The song closes with the pair of vocalists harmonizing, “So long, oh, Rosie don’t you weep / I’ll be around your way again / And hold on to the things we used to say / How could I ever forget?” It’s a beautiful sentiment shot through with a strain of slight tragedy, infusing a slice-of-life moment with genuine emotional stakes in a characteristically unassuming fashion. And that’s where Under Cold Country excels: in its interrogations of the mundane. These songs enliven simple moments with panache and afford them the possibility of being far more pivotal than they might seem at first blush.

Blue County Pistol never misfires across Under Cold Country. All five tracks are as winsome as they come, and the band clearly reveres and understands their various influences. There’s a series of thoughtful calculations on the EP, but they never feel hard-wrung, just hard-won. As Madison’s temperatures drop, certain days become dominated by an influx of red-and-white-clad Badgers fans, and the trees turn bare, I’ll be turning to Under Cold Country to augment a handful of those moments. Maybe then the country won’t feel quite as cold.