Margo Price begins
Strays by declaring that she's been to the mountain and back, a proclamation she pairs with a stylized, amorous throb that's equal parts new wave and classic rock. That statement and that sound make it clear that
Strays finds
Price continuing to wander far afield from the traditional country of her 2016 debut
Midwest Farmer's Daughter, developing a distinctive synthesis of a variety of styles that can't quite be pegged as Americana. Sharp, incisive songwriting remains at the heart of her music, allowing
Price to weave different sounds and rhythms into her probing, emotionally open songs. Certain lines strike the air as possibly autobiographical but she's kept the confessions to her memoir, Maybe We'll Make It. Here, she's telling stories, slightly emphasizing atmosphere over individual tracks. Which isn't to say that the songs on
Strays blend together: they're distinct creatures that are interconnected. After launching the album's journey with "Been to the Mountain," she slides into the road-weathered "Light Me Up" with the assistance of
Heartbreaker Mike Campbell whose solos help give the song some grit.
Sharon Van Etten takes an opposite tactic on the subsequent "Radio," allowing
Price to accentuate hooks that would've been radio-ready in the glory days of AOR.
Price often circles this classicist sound, modernizing the retro vibe with precise, shimmering production along with a subtle reliance on groove; the album flows so well because it has a palpable, soulful pulse. Everything changes with "Lydia" and "Landfill," a pair of searching, nocturnal, neo-folk songs that serves as a kind of epilogue at the end of the album, concluding
Strays on a somewhat uneasy note that is ultimately a sign of
Price's confidence: Sometimes a melancholy finale suits a good time. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine