“A Great Wild Mercy” is the definition of folk, no matter how you slice it.
At face value, this is a beautiful album to listen to.
Folk music traditionally features instruments native to the culture it comes from, and in rural America, this usually means the acoustic sounds of guitar, fiddle, mandolin, double bass, banjo, etc. “A Great Wild Mercy” checks all the boxes.
Newcomer and her trusty Taylor guitar set the tone for an acoustic symphony, joined by longtime collaborator Gary Walters on keys. The music of the album is in some places a lively jig entreating you to tap your foot along, in other places a mournful ballad that seems to float through the air, and always — to an Indiana boy like me — reminiscent of home.
This album was released at the perfect time, because with Thanksgiving coming up, I can’t wait to turn it on in the kitchen while I help prepare the feast.
It’s an impressive feat when an album succeeds on so many levels. The music is amazing, but the true beauty of “A Great Wild Mercy,” is in Newcomer’s songwriting.
As a type of music, folk music essentially means music that is written for and about people in a given culture.
“What defines folk music for me is a freedom of subject matter and topic,” Newcomer said in an October 5 interview with The Bachelor.
She takes every bit of that freedom in “A Great Wild Mercy,” opening with the title track that serves as her own personal declaration of beliefs. She starts the album off with a bang, showcasing what drives and inspires her as a songwriter and a human being. One of my favorite songs on the album is “Potluck,” which perfectly encapsulates the experience of a community meal that anyone growing up in the midwest knows all too well. It is simple in its message, yet profound in the intimacy and vividness with which Newcomer describes the scene.
For many of the songs on “A Great Wild Mercy,” the beauty is in the simplicity.
No song represents this better than “A Book of Questions,” which I love for its accessible poeticism. “Ever kissed in a busy café?” the song asks. “Ever watch an oncoming train or gathering storm? Did you work in a bookstore? Have you ever made a grilled cheese? Did you lose a lover or friend?” It’s one thing to be clever or complex, but truly impressive songwriting comes from being vulnerable and true to oneself.
In the song “A Tissue or Two,” for example, Newcomer describes how her mother would take care of her when she was sick as a child — something most of us have likely experienced — and how she still carries with her those lessons from childhood. The writing is narrative: not overly complicated or sophisticated, but true.
Each track on “A Great Wild Mercy” presents less like a song and more like a poem, telling intimate stories of life and all its moments that all of us have experienced, but few of us take the time to truly appreciate. Newcomer’s brilliant songwriting, delivered in the sweet lull of her alto voice, offers listeners an opportunity to reflect on this life. She revels with us in these universal experiences, and in doing so, invites us to draw closer together.
While the last remnants of autumn still hang from the trees, pour yourself a warm beverage, pull on your coziest mittens and listen to the hidden wonder that is “A Great Wild Mercy.”
