Josh Small, Tall

Here’s the thing: I loathe country (well, most of it, anyway), but ever since my friend Ben got me listening to it in college, I like bluegrass. While the lines between the two often blur, admittedly, this probably partly explains why I find myself liking Richmond, Virginia-dweller Josh Small’s new album, Tall. Bluegrass as a musical genre has always seemed to me to be more genuine, more “true,” and while I’m sure it’s at least a little bit of music-snobbery on my part, the bulk of country music has always seemed fake as hell to me, all marketing and cheese and little substance.

Of course, that sentiment seems a bit silly in this case, when you consider that Small’s toured with true-blue punk rockers like fellow Virginians Strike Anywhere; how genuine is this guy, really? Well, don’t let the friendships with Southern punks like SA or Avail throw you — Small is about as backwoods and seemingly rootless a troubadour as you’re likely to find. It’s genetic, apparently; according to his record label, he comes from a family of music-loving gypsies. (Appalachian Travelers who’ve settled down, maybe?)

Beyond the background and genetics, though, there’s the music. Tall is packed full of bleak-yet-beautiful, plaintive-voiced, Appalachian-sounding folk songs all about hardship, sadness, death, and religion, which automatically brings it closer to the bluegrass canon than the country (somebody once explained to me that every good bluegrass song includes a murder and a river in it somewhere). Think Ralph Stanley or William Elliot Whitmore, with their gravelly, brown-as-the-dirt voices and down-to-earth stories, but laced maybe with a bit of indie sense swiped from, say, Kind of Like Spitting’s Ben Barnett (especially on “Say Hello”).

Songs like “Come Down” are slow and melancholy, sounding for all the world like Small’s just sitting on his big front porch in the dark, listening to the crickets chirp while he plays. “Knife in My Belly” is another highlight, a bit of gentle hillbilly gospel that manages to link Jesus and King Arthur, and a third, “Arc de Triumph,” starts out delicate and literate but turns into a piano-heavy boogie number at the end, the kind Elton John would be proud to play. There’re some elements of ’70s pop here, too, like the keys and funky drums on “$5 in Hand” — both of which kind of irk me ’til the easy grace of Small’s lyrics pull me in — or “Who’s Foolin’ You,” which suffers a bit in the words department. There’s even a little Nawlins jazz in there, on “Moses” and Move Your Hips.”

Most of the songs on Tall unfold themselves at a fairly moderate pace (the one exception being the fast, frantic, excellent “Peek Out the Windows”), played by Small like he’s just showing ’em to his friends and doesn’t really want the attention. As a whole, the album just sort of ambles on by, heading down the road with a shy smile and a sheepish wave, not sure where it’s going but absolutely certain of where it’s been. And, of course, you’re welcome to come along.