Dan Wilson
Free Life

After the dissolution of his band, Dan Wilson steps away from the recording industry and limits himself to playing and collaborating with other artists. The list of musicians he works with is long, almost as long as the list of artists for whom he writes songs. In 2006, "Not Ready To Make Nice" by the Dixie Chicks, composed alongside Dan, makes a big splash. The Chicks are an institution in America, synonymous with continuity with the best of American musical tradition. Each of their albums is a success and yet another affirmation of their skill. Loved by critics and the public, "Not Ready to Make Nice" wins the Grammy for best song of the year.
Rick Rubin, the famous producer, at the console with the folk ladies, watches Dan play and samples his talent. How is it possible that such a person doesn't make more records?, the bearded and burly Rick must have asked himself. And it's thanks to him and the success of that song that Dan Wilson gains the courage to record thirteen pieces that had been kept in the drawer, maybe waiting for someone else to record them instead.
"Free Life" is a record made at his home in gray Minneapolis, the world capital of alternative rock. It's an almost entirely acoustic album from which Dan's traditional singer-songwriter background is clearly evident. Songs like the serene "All Kinds," timeless, the reconciling title track, or "Hand On My Heart" belong to the most melodic Neil Young with sunshine in his eyes, while the melodrama "Easy Silence" seems to have passed through the hands of Tracy Chapman. A highly recommended album, therefore, for those accustomed to such sounds and atmospheres.
But there's something more than the almost typical rendition of noble and evergreen styles: the good guy from Semisonic, one who purified the aggressiveness of grunge to make it suitable for radio pop, feels sorrow, sadness, and anguish. With the due composure, of course. Together with his band members, he had striven in various ballads, but without "leaning" too much, managing to show us a deep sensitivity limited, however, by a certain "timidity" and by something else that resembled modesty. Here, instead, everything of Dan comes to light, perhaps due to the homemade conception of the album, and the listener cannot help but appreciate what Dan has kept hidden about himself for years.
Moment by moment, "Breathless" grows in intensity and pain, a beautiful track worthy of a round-the-world tour, much more captivating and damned catchy than the award-winning hit single by the Dixie Chicks. On this wavelength, "Baby Doll" and "Come Home, Angel" flow, with melodies that are slow but as tense as few others.
Pain and complex feelings continue, and only in "Cry" does the chorus, although not conciliatory, at least appear more bright and hopeful. The same story applies to "Golden Girl," in the beautiful acoustic rock of "She Can't Help Me Now," while "Against History" is an acoustic rock all in arpeggios, almost an unplugged version of what would undoubtedly have been one of the best rock pieces in his repertoire.
We discover that his high and fragile voice is very suited to this mature, disenchanted, existentialist USA pain. We discover that Wilson, outside the confines of video clip pop rock and within the singer-songwriter borders, manages to do better on all fronts, and even on the rock front. We sense why many American artists have gladly chosen to give voice, body, blood, muscles, and tears to the songs he has composed. And we understand why the fire-eating Rick Rubin was furious upon learning he was out of the loop, given the artistic growth he's had.
At this point, I would say, it would be wise for him not to leave, to stay in, gold records or not, Grammy awards or not, if his pieces are as beautiful as these. Otherwise, Rick might eat him alive.