All singer-songwriters are storytellers of a sort, but neither term does justice to what John Wort Hannam accomplishes on this, his eighth album. The marriage of his signature honesty and his wonderfully weathered voice has been a faithful companion for his listeners for nearly two decades, and they labour together beautifully once again on this personal set of eleven new songs. Like his previous releases, LONG HAUL is earnest and forthright, realistic yet hopeful, all with a respectful hat tip and glass raised toward country’s storied past. He has a gift for melody and for encompassing the ways and means by which so many of us try to make ends meet in his lyrics.  The songs tell rich stories of romantic entanglements, good and bad life experiences and timeless intrigue and adventure. Penning some of the most poignant and personal songs any songwriter has ever had the gift and guts to write, if this isn’t an autobiographical journal, he’s a damn good actor, because you believe every word.

Jersey-born Hannam has called Alberta, Canada home for many years and his music reflects his close-family and rural lifestyle. He writes these winding internal heart journeys that start with a question about what it is to be a person in the world and end with the simple realisation that working hard to love is the only thing that matters. The title song evokes the shadowy experience of focusing too much on instant gratification, thereby losing the brightness of today and the illumination of the past as he puts his own music career under the microscope, with the realisation that getting a balance between family and work is paramount to having a fulfilled life. The reflective Old Friend is not only about grappling with immense loss and finding ways to keep living but is also the sound of someone getting older with grace and purpose. It’s a compelling song that should connect with anyone who has lost a long-time friend much too early in life.

On the The Other Side Of The Curve he aches for human contact, but finds peace in knowing we’re all aching together. A delicate arrangement of acoustic guitar, haunting fiddle and Keri Latimer’s wispy harmony creates a comforting song for all of us who’ve suffered from isolation and loneliness, especially during the pandemic, with a feeling of relief that is so lovely, however fleeting it all is. The rambunctious Beautiful Mess gambols animatedly in this light-hearted kiss-and-make-up duet. His voice is sticky-sweet and deep like honey and when Sheela Miller joins him, her twangy tones complement perfectly over those golden 1970s pure country sounds, mimicking a lover’s breathless desire for the promise of love.

He pairs a couple of songs depicting life in small-town Alberta with Meat Draw and Twilight Diner. The former is a country-tinged rootsy rave-up recalling the days of yore when the highlight of the week was the Friday night ‘meat draw’ at the local Legion hall. Twilight Diner is a groove-driven yarn about an all-night diner and the regulars who are described so succinctly that you can picture the scene as the lyrics unfurl. A swirling organ and John’s easy-going vocal capture the vibe perfectly, keeping the sound open, airy and enticing. The scampering gypsy rambler Wonderful Things captures the frenetic activity of someone with an overloaded mind and the anxious rush to address it all.  He sits in the discomfort of self-doubt, maybe slowly emerging from it as he gets older in the confessional What I Know Now.

For fans hungry for more of this songsmith’s sparse acoustic fare, LONG HAUL is a welcome offering of rootsy and rooted songs that celebrate and contemplate the personal, present moment. The music is an enticing array of engaging melodies as expressed in songs that resonate with a genuine effusive enthusiasm. The intuitive production is by Steve Dawson, who plays acoustic, electric, pedal steel, National steel guitar, mellotron and mandator and is joined by Jeremy Holmes (electric and upright bass), Gary Craig (drums, percussion), Fats Kaplin (fiddle, mandolin, banjo, harmonica) and Chris Castrin (organ, Wurlitzer, piano, mellotron, pump organ, clavinet). John Wort Hannam proves that his songs and voice are as great as they ever were on this fantastic new album.