Album Review: ‘Woodland'

Gillian Welch And David Rawlings Transform A Catastrophic Tornado Into Beautiful Music

Author’s Note: This review was first published August 26, 2024 at The Buffalo Hive where I serve as Managing Editor.

Gillian Welch and David Rawlings met at the Berklee College of Music about 30 years ago and they have been making music together since. Much of that music was created at Woodland Studio in Nashville which they bought 20 years ago. A violent, March 2020 tornado “peeled the roof off like a sardine can” and Welch gives Rawlings “full credit” for bringing the studio back to life.

“As far as restoring (Woodland) and bringing it back — after the roof got peeled off in the tornado, and then it rained torrentially for five-six hours — the reconstruction process was Dave,” she said in an interview with The Tennessean. “He just took over and made it his mission to resuscitate the studio.”

Rawlings was quoted saying that processing the feelings of loss that came with the disaster, and all the work repairing the studio, felt as though it colored the batch of songs and recordings at their core.

“I mean, really it was when I thought, ‘My goodness, I’ve been here in this building for five years and pretty much nowhere else’ … if it was going to be called anything, that’s what it was,” Rawlings said, noting that the right name for the album has always been “Woodland.”

Their music is defined by a distinct, laid-back vocal mixed with Rawling’s rich guitar that sounds of bluegrass, folk, country and blues. If a label is required, “Americana” and “Roots” may be accurately applied. 

“North Country” begins with Rawling’s expressive guitar playing a languid, extended introduction followed by Welch’s soft voice coming in, joined by Rawlings’ voice for the first time at 1:20. The lyrics are filled with pathos, wistfully recalling the past and reflecting on the ravages of age on the body.

I guess it's just my blood getting thinner,

This ain't easy living no siree.

We used to steal away and watch the fireflies after dinner,

It's a slow motion dream that you never see

Way up in the north country.

Wintertime in the pines and the snow is coming on,

You'll be back when the cold winds blow but I'll be gone.

“The Day The Mississippi Died” is an oblique comment on our collective inability to deal with climate change, lamenting “I do beliеve we've brokеn what we never knew could break. I'm just so disappointed in me and you, but we can't even argue so what else can we do?”

I try to treat my neighbors like I like them to treat me,

Even when they got that dog and cut down that tree.

I hate that barking dog I miss that old oak everyday.

But I don't expect everyone to see the world my way,

Now the truth is hard to swallow it's hard to take.

But I do beliеve we've brokеn what we never knew could break.

I'm just so disappointed in me and you,

But we can't even argue so what else can we do.

Ketch Secor’s (Old Crow Medicine Show) fiddle is a third thread weaving through “Mississippi’s” tight harmonies, just one of the musicians who add splashes of color to the Welch and Rawling’s austere sound. 

“Woodland’s” 10 tracks clock in a just over 40 minutes and it is on my long list for the Best Albums of 2024.