When we catch up with Bob Delevante — formerly half of the Delevantes, victims of a 1997 artistic massacre at Capitol Records — he’s in mid-journey. “I’ve walked a thousand miles/Got a thousand more to go,” he sings in the opening cut, leaving ample time to meditate on how life’s vicissitudes cause the “redemption horizon line” to alternately approach and recede.
Sometimes circumstances overwhelm us: “It’s a double-time world with a cut in pay/Eight-day work week of 25 hour days,” Delevante cries in “End of the Day”, to the steamroller accompaniment of guitar feedback, incessant drum loop and clanking pile driver. Too often, the trap door yawns from within: “You think yourself into a hole in the ground,” he sings in “Broken Kite”. Overarching all are the Damocles swords of fleeting time and a universe that is simultaneously inspiring and aloof.
Fortunately, Delevante’s odyssey is underpinned by the touchstones of hometown streets, family and love, beckoning like the porchlight of the title track. Delevante is supported in his quest by his unquenchable humor, the appealing reedy quaver of his voice, and instrumentation that ranges from pedal steel and dobro to searing electric guitar.
Along for the trip are brother Mike, Emmylou Harris, Buddy Miller and others who have the good fortune to witness Delevante reaching that elusive horizon in the final track, “Count Your Blessings”: “Give us hope and keep us strong/Bless the life that we live now/May it be sweet, may it be long”.
