CD Odyssey Disc 1909: Josh Ritter

Welcome back. Today I review a good record, and then a great concert.

Disc 1909 is… I Believe In You, My Honeydew

Artist: Josh Ritter

Year of Release: 2025

What’s up with the Cover? I also used to take my bow out in the woods as a young boy, but there are a couple of key facts that let you know this kid is Josh Ritter, and not me.

First, this kid is wearing shorts. As a kid outside of gym class, I never wore shorts. I didn’t like ‘em. I think they’re fine now, provided it’s warm enough out, but I’m still against sandals. On this latter point this kid version of Josh and I agree.

Second, I had a way more impressive head of hair than this kid. Sorry Josh, but my hair ruled as a kid. It ain’t now what it used to be but back in the day my curls were so big and tight they could repel rainwater.

How I Came To Know It: I’m a fan and so I always check out Josh Ritter albums. I don’t always like them, but since I knew I was going to see him on this album’s tour, it was a safe bet I’d buy the record. And here we are!

How It Stacks Up: I have six Josh Ritter albums. He has thirteen albums, so as you can guess, he’s not an “always” thing for me. “I Believe In You…” is on the edge, so I’ll rank it sixth. Last in my current collection, but still middle of the pack overall.

Ratings: 3 stars

I like my Ritter on the folksy side, with the production a little undercooked. Ritter likes his folk on the rocky side, with his production varied and unpredictable. There are whole records where he pushes me too far and I must wag my finger at full arm extension, as I tilt my head back imperiously and declare, “You cut that out! I won’t buy it, Josh, I won’t!”

His latest release, “I Believe In You, My Honeydew” is, fortunately, not such a record. It has much to recommend it, but is still a microcosm of the Ritter experience, as he slides in and out of styles and tries on different arrangements like a royal in a fancy hat store.

The opening track “You Won’t Dig My Grave” is ground zero for Ritter, with its urgent half-spoken, half-sung style and a mix of electric guitar and piano trilling away in a style that would make Bruce Hornsby proud. It’s solid, but not a “must have” situation – particularly for a fellow who has already shown clear evidence that Ritter and I have a relationship that is on-again, off-again by nature.

The next song (“Honeydew (No Light)”) has a groove that tried very hard but doesn’t quite land (it is hard to funk up the folk and should be attempted only with great caution). When the reverb guitar and feedback/record scratch sounds start popping into the bridge I could feel my wagging finger rising, unbidden, from my side.

But then, on track three Josh Ritter does what he does – dropping one of the finest songs he’s ever done. “Truth Is a Dimension (Both Invisible and Blinding)” is what will always and eternally bring me back into Ritter’s orbit.

Held together by just the deliberate pluck of a single acoustic guitar, “Truth Is a Dimension…” is the narrative of a man who smokes a J, and while stargazing discovers intelligent life in the universe. Well, that’s the bones of it anyway.

In fact, it is so much more. This is a song about life, the subjective nature of truth, the impact of the observer on the observed (both externally on the world, and internally on our thoughts). It muses on the nature of the multiverse but eventually comes around to only one certainty: there’s love, there’s loss, and there’s great art – and that’s the truth.

After a relatively shaky start Josh now had me and he wasn’t going to let go. Does he go back again to that half-funky/groovy thing he does which sometimes works and sometimes feels like the musical equivalent of a smirk? Yes, he does. When you’re as gifted a songwriter as Ritter, you’ll always ride the line between smart and smart-ass. Ask Dylan. He won’t answer the question directly, but he knows.

And some of that frantic approach to the record that I had earlier viewed askance I now better appreciated for the range it was providing. As the record progressed some of the excess energy took on a decidedly church-like quality, aided by Ritter’s careful and considered use of religious iconography on songs like “Noah’s Children” and the refrain of “I hear a higher calling” on “Wild Ways”.

This pulpit-like approach culminates on the record’s final track, “The Throne” which channels greats like Nick Cave and Leonard Cohen at their most devout. Ritter holds up well with these masters. Were there some merely OK tracks between “Truth is a Dimension…” and “the Throne”? Sure there were, but in the glare of the church chords of the piano and the rock peel of the electric guitar, Ritter dispenses wise and inspired observations about life, and once again all is forgiven.

Josh Ritter is a great songwriter, but he’s not one for chasing empty crowd pleasers. His albums can go a lot of directions, and not all of those directions are going to tickle your fancy. Always brilliant and occasionally annoying, “I Believe In You, My Honeydew” was an acquired taste, laden with five-star brilliance and two-star filler. But damn it if on balance the old master didn’t win me over again.

Best tracks: Truth Is a Dimension (Invisible and Blinding), Noah’s Children, Wild Ways, The Throne

The Concert: March 19, 2026, Mary Winspear Centre, Sidney, BC

Heading out to Sidney with Sheila and our friend Casey (kudos to him for driving us), I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew I liked Josh Ritter, but I wasn’t always keen on his production choices. But as I walked into the plush and cozy 300-seat of the small-town auditorium and saw two single acoustic guitars perched behind some Christmas lights and a lone microphone stand, I knew all was going to be well.

Thing weren’t just well, however – this ended up being one of the best concerts I have ever seen. Ritter is a born entertainer and with a stable of impressive and expressive songs built across two and a half decades, he’s got the ammunition to go with it.

The first thing that jumped out at me was Ritter’s pure and unconditional joy at just being there. His grin is infectious and the first words out of his mouth were to indicate just how thrilled he was to be performing for us. It wasn’t one of those “how are we doing tonight, Sidney?” pandering moments, either. He was happy to be there, and it showed.

Lacking a band did not prevent Ritter from creating layers of sound. He wields his guitar with a busker’s skill for making percussion, with slaps on the body and well-placed hammer-ons on the fretboard. He stepped in and out of the mic as well, creating all manner of sound while never losing that clean acoustic sound I was hoping for.

His guitars were worn and well-used, with pick guards down to the raw wood. They looked well-loved and fit right in with Ritter’s casual and unassuming style.

As for the songs, he played almost every one of my favourites from the new record (the only absence was “Noah’s Children” and frankly, of the four favourites listed above, it is #4). The others weren’t just played, they were elevated, making me love the latest record in ways I hadn’t during the studio listen.

The old standards were well chosen, and he had a knack for mixing slow contemplative pieces in with bangers, moving the energy up and down while never losing the room. A couple of times he appeared to chose a song on the spur of the moment, exclaiming “I just had an idea!” and then giving that idea a go.

The banter was also first rate, always giving additional flavour and energy to the performance and never just resorting to “explaining” a song. When he played his classic hit “Kathleen” he actually took an extended break mid-tune to tell a hilarious yarn, before returning to the final verse, showing that there is a way to keep a song fresh, even if you’ve played it a hundred times.

There were a few times where he made a mistake – usually missing a lyric or coming in late as he remembered at the back of the beat. Once he even started over again entirely. It was weirdly fine, and at times even welcome. It underscored just how thoroughly he threw himself into the moment. It happened rarely, and when it did you were on the journey with him so much, you just laughed along with him in what was less an error and more a “campfire moment” among friends.

This was one of those shows that elevated the spirit. At times you lose yourself in Ritter’s imagery and metaphor. At other times you get lost just as he does in your own thoughts, inspired by his art. I came away with a cup full of love, deep thoughts and overall gratitude that I’d gotten a chance to see him in such an intimate venue.

If you get a chance to see this guy in concert, don’t miss it.

CD Odyssey Disc 1272: Josh Ritter

I wrote this review on Wednesday, but held back publishing it so I could pair it with my review of my experience at Ritter’s concert in Vancouver on Saturday. However, earlier today Ritter cancelled his show due to issues with his voice.

Argh. I am torn between frustration at the cancelled show and the realization that seeing him sing his songs poorly wouldn’t have been any better.

Disc 1272 is… Fever Breaks

Artist: Josh Ritter

Year of Release: 2019

What’s up with the Cover? Following the young king’s untimely death everyone agreed that holding the coronation ceremony on a flood plain had been a case of poor planning.

How I Came to Know It: It is a new Josh Ritter album. I like Josh Ritter a lot, so checked this album out as soon as it was released.

How It Stacks Up:  I have five of Josh Ritter’s ten albums and I like to think I have his best five. With that in mind when I say “Fever Breaks” ranks 4^th best remember that while that’s near the bottom of my collection, it is near the top of his overall body of work.

Ratings: 4 stars

After a couple of recent Josh Ritter albums that were good but not top five material, “Fever Breaks” was a return to form.

Ritter’s style often varies from record to record. On “Fever Breaks” he works in a driving rock and roll sound, fueled in part by his collaboration with Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit. Isbell produced the record and the result is exactly what you’d hope for: a mix of Isbell’s southern alt-country grit and Ritter’s melodic whimsy.

The combination is seamless and would make for a great double bill with Isbell. If you’re looking to make up the cancellation with me Josh, that would do it. Just sayin’. Regardless, I felt Jason’s ghost and unseen hand all over the production.

The record is well paced and starts with songs (“Ground Don’t Want Me”, “Old Black Magic”) that have high energy, designed to get your attention. They do that ably, but for me the record really gets moving when Ritter slows down and lets you slow-soak in melodies that reveal raw honesty and a healthy dollop of romanticism.

Sometimes, as with “On the Water” love is a miracle, simultaneously impossible and full of ease, “just a short walk on the water.” Ritter catches the tension of love’s pull, referring to his heart as just “a silver fish on the line of your laughter.”

Other times, like on “I Still Love You (Now and Then),” love is just a memory, coming back to haunt you through time. The lyrics are painful, but the tune has a hopeful, confident chord progression that lets you know he’ll get through the worst of it.

Ritter also gets political at times, but always grounds it in personal experience. “All Some Kind of Dream” is a Dylanesque reverie about how America has lost the open heart it once had for newcomers. “The Torch Committee” is a dystopian exploration of institutional injustice, where those responsible for passing judgment do so from structures designed to shield them from culpability. Or as the committee opines on the song:

“And though you know that we take pains

The process of the law remains

All technicalities aside

You see our hands are also tied.”

In the end, the accused has one way to escape punishment – find others to take their place. It is one of the most troubling forms of violence; the kind perpetrated by those coopted by an unjust cause to turn on their own.

Ritter has a bit of Leonard Cohen in his delivery of “The Torch Committee” (albeit with a lot less gravel) and it is one of many songs that draws on a rich singer-songwriter tradition. In addition To Cohen and Dylan, and with its piano trills and Southern U.S. everyman pastiche, “A New Man” had me thinking of Bob Seger, if Seger sang folk music.

“Blazing Highway Home” sounded a bit too much like Steve Earle’s “Goodbye” for my tastes, but it is just a case of there being only so many chords and guitar strums after you’ve heard a lot of music. It wasn’t a Miranda Lambert level offence like “Kerosene”, so much as a future opportunity for the girls of “Pitch Perfect” to do a mash-up.

“Fever Breaks” features Ritter’s usual amazing songwriting, and the injection of Jason Isbell’s music sensibilities gives him a whole new palette of sound to play with. Listening to it filled with me with a fever of my own; a fever to hear it performed live at the Vogue. Unfortunately, this was not to be.

Best tracks: On the Water, I Still Love You (Now and Then), The Torch Committee, All Some Kind of Dream, A New Man

CD Odyssey Disc 1172: Josh Ritter

Whenever I’m not having the greatest day, there is always music. Whether I’m facing a hard walk or a long wait, it can all be endured if I’ve got some music to keep me company. And anytime I’m feeling low, or even when I just need to safely feel a little low on my own terms, there is music to help me along.

I wonder what people without music do? Or worse still, those people who listen to the radio, desperately hoping that the next song is going to fill their emotional needs only to be served some random and vacuous hit of the day. Poor bastards.

Disc 1172 is… The Beast In Its Tracks

Artist: Josh Ritter

Year of Release: 2013

What’s up with the Cover? When I first saw this cover I thought there were trees growing out of Josh Ritter’s shoulders. Upon further inspection I see that his shirt is catching fire. The patch on his right shoulder appears to be burning in the shape of a bum, proving this particular fire has a sense of humour.

How I Came To Know It: After I discovered Josh Ritter through his 2006 album “The Animal Years” (reviewed back at Disc 1062) I decided he warranted a full dive. “The Beast In Its Tracks” was one of his albums that I determined was “shelf-worthy”.

How It Stacks Up:  Josh Ritter has nine studio albums, and I own four of them. “The Beast in its Tracks” comes in 3^rd out of those 4. What can I say? Competition is fierce.

Ratings: 4 stars

I see “The Beast in its Tracks” as a comeback album for Josh Ritter, but it really isn’t. Ritter only began charting in the last eight years or so, and “Beast” was part of that popular success. Note that “charting” and “popular” are relative term when you’re talking about indie folk music, but you get the point.

But for me Ritter’s best work spans from 2002-2006 and the records between then and 2013 don’t resonate the same. That is all cured on “Beast” which sees Ritter’s ever evolving style move to something that is gentle and uplifting musically, while still providing thoughtful lyrics. In short, Ritter seems to have mellowed out.

On his earlier records, Ritter’s production is a pretty stripped down folk, with plenty of pretty guitar work. That is all present on “Beast” as well, but the production is lighter and airier, with Ritter singing consistently in his high register. The album takes on a very ethereal quality, and the low end bass notes are muted or missing. It reminded me heavily of early Simon and Garfunkel with the soft recital quality of the Frances Luke Accord. I expect that last reference isn’t much help…look them up in the sidebar if you’re curious.

The guitar work has a gentle jangle, and a light picking style that makes you want to go cycling down a country lane, or maybe hang out at a stream and pick flowers for your girl. It feels pastoral and pleasant.

There are times this sound feels a little twee, and had me wishing for a bit more gravitas, but those times were rare. For the most part, the sound put my head into a receptive reverie, ready to let Ritter’s stories wash over and into me.

The opening tracks on the album are good, but they’re not my favourites. Things pick up at Track 5 with “Nightmares” which has a guitar so whimsical you’d swear it was a ukulele (I checked though – no sign of ukulele in the credits).  Then Ritter cleverly crosses that whimsy with terrifying imagery like:

“Nightmares have their dreams as well

And when they sleep they go to hell

And drink their fill on lakes of blood

Canter ‘cross the skull-paved

And nurse their little colts on fires

Their coltish teeth like kitchen knives

And look down from abysmal cliffs

Their dead hair by the lead wind riffed

On denizens too deep to see

Whose own dreams nightmares’ nightmares in

I know where the nightmares sleep

On what fodder they feed.”

Translation: everyone has nightmares – even nightmares. You’re not alone. No wonder the song has a ukulele-like whimsy; it’s comforting.

On “New Lover” Ritter has a similarly “happy” message, as he tells his old lover he’s happy and moved on, and hopes the same for her…before ending with:

“But if you’re sad and you are lonesome and you ain’t got nobody true

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me happy too.”

Here again, is the album’s hidden charm. Ritter has found a way to sing gently about dark thoughts, sugar-coated like a pill from Miracle Max to help it go down easier.

Not all the songs have darkness underneath. Many of the songs on “Beast” are just pretty little romantic songs. The kind of thing you play for your girl to impress her with your love around a campfire. Of course, if you play guitar you know that your girl has heard you rehearse the crap out of that song, so by the time you pull it out at the campfire chances are you’ll be sick of it, and so will she – although she’ll still appreciate the sentiment.

Fortunately, I never heard Josh Ritter sit around his house and compose these perfect little songs – they arrived for me in finished form; thoughtful little songs that wrapped me up in a little doubt, a lot of love and just the right amount of jangle.

Best tracks: Nightmares, New Lover, Heart’s Ease, The Appleblossom Rag, In Your Arms Awhile, Joy to You Baby

CD Odyssey Disc 1062: Josh Ritter

Another musical icon left us today with the death of the Tragically Hip’s Gord Downie. I had a complicated relationship with the Hip. I first discovered them through my roommate Greg, who had their first two albums on tape, and I loved it.

However, it was not to last – my local radio station adopted the Hip as their “House Band” and played them all the time. That would’ve been OK, except that station blared away in a warehouse all day where I worked one of my worst jobs ever. As the months passed I learned to loathe the Hip in much the same way that Alex came to hate his beloved Ludwig Van in “A Clockwork Orange.”

Then, years later my friend Chris reintroduced me to them, when I had enough distance to once again hear the music on its own merits. Nowadays I only have four of their 13 albums, but I like all four of them and may one day get more. I heard some songs from 2009’s “We are the Same” earlier today and I liked it quite a bit.

But enough about future purchases, let’s get to the review of the moment, shall we?

Disc 1062 is…The Animal Years

Artist: Josh Ritter

Year of Release: 2006

What’s up with the Cover? I’m not sure if this is a horse with a very bad swayback, or one with a bite taken out of it. Whatever it’s condition, it seems pretty calm given its back issues and the fact that it is floating on a log.

How I Came To Know It: I just kept bumping into Josh Ritter, reading reviews where critics raved about him or just new releases that hearkened back to all his good works. Finally, this one showed up at #11 on Paste Magazine’s oft-mentioned (by me) “Top 100 Indie Folk Albums” so I gave it a listen. I loved it, but it took a while to find and only recently was lucky to happen upon a used copy at my local record store.

How It Stacks Up:  I checked out all of Josh Ritter’s albums in the meantime, and by the time I added “The Animal Years” I had already bought three others. It is early days and I don’t know any of the albums that well yet, but I’m going to start things off with ranking “the Animal Years” at number one. Ordinarily I’d give the other three a cursory scan to see if there was a possibility that I was wrong but screw it – this album is just too good. If I’m proven wrong down the road, that just means I’ve got two amazing albums instead of just one.

Ratings: 5 stars

I’ve had a lot of time to listen to “The Animal Years” over the last three days, mostly because I couldn’t bring myself to stop. The record has a lot to say, and the more you listen the more it reveals itself to you. This is a record about faith as it crumbles at its foundations, and of love full of doubt made stronger by the twists those doubts lay in your soul, like a tree growing up on a windy shore.

There is a bit of all these things on the opening track, “Girl in the War,” as Christian saint Peter expresses his doubts to Paul. The light trill of a mandolin adds a poignancy to the song as Ritter sets up two paragons of righteousness, starting to lose their way. The song begins:

“Peter said to Paul, you know all those words we wrote

Are just the rules of the game and the rules are the first to go

But now talking to God is Laurel begging Hardy for a gun

I got a girl in the war, man, I wonder what it is we done.”

In just a single stanza, Ritter dumps you into the deep end, questioning the nature of good and evil, free will and the absurdity of a world where war exists, akin to a skinny clown begging a fat oaf for a weapon. How could we come to this? For Ritter, the terror and beauty are in our humanity, which even when it is grieving, is enough to shake the foundations of heaven itself. The song ends with Peter lamenting:

“I got a girl in the war, Paul, her eyes are like champagne

They sparkle, bubble over, and in the morning all you got is rain.”

Not content with a single masterful song, Ritter takes imagery from one song and drops it into another one. “Girl in the War” is the first track, but nine tracks later Ritter invokes Laurel and Hardy a second time on “Thin Blue Flame”:

“If what we loosed on earth will be loosed up on high

It’s a Hell of a Heaven we must go to when we die

Where even Laurel begs Hardy for vengeance please

The fat man is crying on his hands and his knees.”

There’s little hope for those arguing saints when even the pompous bully at last trembles with the terrible choices his authority requires. This is a stark record, where Ritter confronts us and forces us to examine our actions directly, and not through some divine will, for the fault is in us, and he takes us there so subtly and gradually that when you finally arrive it feels as natural as it is inevitable.

On “Wolves” Ritter sings an upbeat ditty about singing to the wolves who later seek him out for his hubris, and four songs later on “Idaho” he sings a mournful dirge even as the narrator clings to his truth “Wolves, oh wolves, can’t you see?/Ain’t no wolf can sing like me.” Later, in the song our bold singer is grounded by the truth of his sins, drawing him, and pinning him like a lodestone to their source:

“Thought that I’d been on a boat

’Til that single word you wrote

That single word it landlocked me

Turned the masts to cedar trees

And the winds to gravel roads.

Idaho, Idaho”

I could explore the language and themes and connectivity of “The Animal Years” forever, but time and space compel me to lend some time to Ritter’s vocals, which add depth, complexity and emotional honesty to every song. When he needs it, Ritter has the rock power of Springsteen, and when he needs light and ethereal, he makes like Art Garfunkel, but with more soul.

In the modern era, if you aren’t writing catchy pop hooks and marketing clothing lines and signature perfumes there is a good chance people don’t know you. For good or ill, the era of folk giants like Bob Dylan or Simon and Garfunkel is largely over. I like the variety the new world order generates but I want to be clear about Josh Ritter – if this guy had done his thing in the sixties or seventies he would be a household name by now, and “The Animal Years” would already be a classic album. Twenty years from now that may still happen; time has a way of helping greatness rise to the top.

I don’t compare Ritter to Bob Dylan or Paul Simon lightly, but on “The Animal Years” he earns it. This is one of folk-rock finest albums I’ve ever heard. Ritter seamlessly blends hometown rock of Bruce Springsteen, the social commentary of Dylan and the romantic idealism of Leonard Cohen.

Over the past three days, I’ve listened to this album five or six times through, maybe more. I forget how many. All I’m sure of is that I wanted more, but the Odyssey is a harsh mistress and tells me I must move on. And so as I embark again on this crazy CD Odyssey I’m leaving Ritter Island sooner than I want, and with more than a little regret.

Best tracks: All tracks, but Girl in the War, Monster Ballads and Idaho will break your heart all on their own.