Album Review: Where the East Ends
by Andy Odom | Source

Trey Johnson’s future sound was predicted on his former band’s final release. Sorta’s last album contained the song “Poor Little Child,” a poppy, light-hearted jaunt right in the middle of the band’s darkest and heaviest moments on record. When Johnson started his solo career, that lighthearted musical approach followed.

Johnson’s new album, Where The East Ends, picks up where his solo debut, Mount Pelee, left off: with a bouncy piano. Johnson’s solo work is decidedly more pop-oriented than his previous band and is much more diverse stylistically. “Born & Raised” and “Call Anytime” have vibrant horns and keyboards that range from Dixieland to classic R&B. “Kentucky” evokes classic country with its picked banjo and throaty background vocals. “Auntie Mo’ Rag” is a classic Scott Joplin-style piano rag. “Rain” suggests mid-period Beatles (but not the Beatles song “Rain”), and a Dylan-esque organ seems to be lurking behind every corner on the more straight-forward songs like “A Long Time” and “Wear You Down.”

The upbeat nature of the music on Where The East Ends is at stark contrast with the lyrics, though. All of Johnson’s common themes are present: daddy issues, missing mommas, doubting relationships, and struggles with general dissatisfaction. On “A Long Time,” Johnson sings, “I’ve been lucky my whole life/Got more than any man ever needed/Why am I still so unsatisfied.” Johnson borders on becoming just another whiny artist airing out his journal for public consumption, but it goes beyond that. He actually hits something universal, expressing the deepest, darkest thoughts we try to convince ourselves don’t exist in our own minds, if for no other reason than the fact that we have to get on with our lives.

Take “Bombs,” where he focuses on recent terror attacks to highlight the modern dangers closer to home:

One goes off on an airplane
One goes off in a building
One goes off on a train line
One goes off on a bus
Isn’t it comforting to know that you’ll always be afraid?
Isn’t it comforting to know that you’ll never feel safe?

It’s not negative just to be negative. The thin veneer of our security is something we all take for granted, but it’s something that unifies us. Whether Johnson is being sarcastic or asking his listeners to embrace the macabre reality of our vulnerabilities, his point still rings true.

As might be expected, Where The East Ends is a more difficult listen than it sounds on the surface. But, surprisingly, it all works. Johnson’s music always required a few spins before it opened up for the listener, and this album is no different. Upon multiple listens, the back-and-forths between styles smooth out and the experience with Where The East Ends becomes more adventurous instead of disjointed. Johnson might have left his straightforward rock past behind, but his music is as strong as ever.