For all the '90s,
Merle Haggard was stuck in a kind of exile, recording albums that were strangely perched between familiar
Haggard material and futile compromises to a modern country radio that would never play material from veterans.
Hag knew that he hadn't lost it, so when he finally ran out his contract for Curb, he smartly signed to Anti-, a subsidiary of the indie punk label Epitaph. Finally at a label that would let him record a traditional
Haggard album, he seized the opportunity with
If I Could Only Fly, a gentle, understated, largely acoustic album that's easily his best in over a decade. It's easy to draw comparisons to
Johnny Cash's
Rick Rubin-produced American Music, but this is actually a better fit, since nothing here is forced. There's no mention of his wild ways or outlaw posturing; instead he, dwells on being old, not wanting to leave home, and writes frequently about his family. This is not sad and melancholy, it's a sweet, soothing record, filled with intimately autobiographical songs, delivered with ease and subtle shading through
Haggard's always superb vocalizing. If I Could Fly benefits considerably from its sheer, warm musicality, and it's easy to be charmed by its stripped-back, organic sound. It sounds so good that it's also easy to overlook that the album is shy a couple of great songs it needed to be an unqualified triumph. Only the sublime "Wishing All These Old Things Were New," "If I Could Only Fly," and "Listening (To the Wind)" are truly significant additions to
Haggard's canon. Ultimately, that may be a bit of nitpicking --
If I Could Only Fly is the first album in years that deserves to be compared to
Haggard's classic work.