One More Lonesome Cowboy Song is the sonic equivalent of a good trip, tracing an inner monologue through temptation, longing, and mortality.
Jonathan Something, whose real name is Jon Searles, spent the last few months dipping his toes with a slew of singles unlike much of his previous releases. One More Lonesome Cowboy Song marks a strong return after a 4-year hiatus from 2022’s Lover Man EP. The result is a short yet potent 7-track record that departs from his previous dreamy synth-pop sound in favor of cosmic country existentialism.
The titular, self-aware irony is merely a veneer for Searles’ psychedelic ruminations. Across the record’s runtime, the album accounts for everything lighthearted and heavy. The opening track, “Country Rose,” vindicates his time away, grappling with how “peace and love don’t sell as rock and roll does.” The cheeky observation appears much steeper as Searles digs deeper into his personal life. It makes for a wider meditation on modern life, where sincerity often struggles to compete with spectacle.
Mortality remains at the forefront of Searles’ mind, balancing the euphoric moments of life with a profound appreciation for its transience. “Siren Song” is my favorite on the record and possibly Searles at his most efficacious; the song is half-Seals and Croft, half-Slowdive. Its melodies bob and weave through awesome falsettos and analog-cuddled shoegaze guitars, all while reckoning with “yearning for oblivion” and “sensations fit for lesser men.” Without guilt, he makes amends with his nature and radically accepts his shortcomings as part of a greater quest.
In the middle of the album, “Gasoline” documents an arc of course-correction through withered, yet tender expressions. Lines like “ With a subtle shift in my perception, I defied a bitter shame to find the difference between tears of joy and pain” whittle human error into epic maxims. The chord progression is an unresolving ascension that reeks of Gram Parsons’ rock sensibilities.
“Dancer in the Sky” is a wide and hazy ballad that feels almost boundless. Stretched across a nearly seven-minute runtime, its lush arrangement reaches for the horizon, all while remembering “where the river rolls the water plays a cold reminder that she’s a dancer in the sky.” The story of a fallen angel named Trinity becomes an allegory for the impermanence of human existence and thus embraces all of the soul’s passing states.
What makes the record so compelling to me is Searles’ refusal to separate the profound from the absurdity of adulthood. Cowboy iconography, self-deprecating humor, psychedelic reflections, and spiritual yearning coexist without contradiction. Throughout One More Lonesome Cowboy Song, each transgression, regret, and setback becomes a stepping stone toward understanding the self. Like the best trips, it gives no answers—it returns listeners to themselves with a renewed appreciation for the mystery of being alive.
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