As autumn appears to be in full swing, with the nights drawing in earlier, we've been searching for an earthy, authentic listen to accompany the change of season and have found it in Danny Hammons' EP release. 'Take The Long Road Home'.
Released on October 4, 2024, this collection of songs feels like a weathered journal entry from a traveller who's seen too much road but not enough resolution. Clocking in at a brisk 22 minutes across seven tracks, this folk-leaning collection—his first full EP under Last Wave Records—trades the bombast of modern Americana for something rawer, more intimate.
Hammons, a Birmingham-based songwriter with roots in the Steel City Jug Slammers scene, channels the ghosts of Woody Guthrie and early Dylan here, but with a Southern grit honed from personal scars. If his previous singles like "I Ain't Got No Home" hinted at a restless spirit, this EP maps out the detours. The journey kicks off with the ethereal "June Song," a mere 37 seconds of fingerpicked guitar and murmured vocals that sets a tone of fragile nostalgia—like catching fireflies in a mason jar before the light fades. It's a prelude that doesn't overstay, easing into the heart of the record: "Shooting Stars," the lead single that dropped a month prior. Penned in the shadow of a near-fatal car wreck on an Oklahoma backroad, this track is Hammons at his most vulnerable. Over two years in Ramblin' Ricky Tate's studio, he layers sparse banjo and jug-band percussion with lyrics that dissect regret and fleeting wonder: "We chased the tail of a comet / But the sky don't owe us nothin'." It's raw introspection wrapped in emotional depth, the kind of song that lingers like highway dust on your boots. Folk purists will appreciate the unpolished edges, though it occasionally veers into melodrama that might test casual listeners.
From there, the EP meanders through themes of displacement and return. "Back to Colorado" evokes wide-open prairies with its lilting melody and harmonica swells, a homesick anthem for anyone who's ever romanticized the rearview mirror. At 3:55, it's the longest stretch of optimism here, Hammons' baritone cracking just enough to sell the ache without tipping into sentimentality. "Sidewalk Child" flips the script to urban grit—a 3:26 character study of streetwise survival that pulses with off-kilter rhythms, courtesy of the Jug Slammers' influence. It's the EP's most playful cut, blending foot-stomps and wry humor in lines like "Pockets full of nothin' but lint and a liar's grin." The back half deepens the introspection.
"Hourglass" (4:14) is a slow-burn meditation on time's tyranny, with Hammons' acoustic strums building to a hushed crescendo that feels like watching sand slip through fingers. "Oceanside" shifts westward to coastal longing, its 3:20 runtime awash in reverb-drenched guitar that evokes foggy piers and unspoken goodbyes—perfect for late-night drives. Closing with "Hearts and Minds" (3:07), the EP lands on a defiant note, grappling with love's battlefield in explicit, unflinching terms. The track's raw delivery—marked by a faint explicit warning—grounds the whole project in Hammons' unfiltered voice, ending not with closure but a lingering question mark.
At its best, Take the Long Road Home captures the folk tradition's essence: stories sung from the gut, unadorned and urgent. Production is commendably live-room sparse, letting Hammons' lyrics breathe amid the creak of strings and the thump of a washtub bass. Weak spots? The brevity can feel like a teaser—some tracks, like the opener, beg for expansion—and the thematic wanderlust occasionally blurs into sameness for non-diehard fans. But that's the point: this isn't a destination album; it's the scenic route, full of detours worth the extra miles.
In a year bloated with polished playlists, Hammons' EP is a breath of back-porch air—imperfect, poignant, and profoundly human. Pour yourself a whiskey, hit play, and let the road unspool. If you're craving folk with soul, this one's your hitchhiker's guide.
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