Trent Dabbs offers listeners a sunset, not a sermon

Trent Dabbs’ Believer—with its folky vibe, reverb-soaked vocals, and gently floating psychedelic guitar—will leave listeners half convinced they fell into a 1960’s time warp. When the Neil Young-style harmonica kicks in, they’ll be sure of it.

That’s to be expected from the Nashville performer who sang back in 2011, “If I take all my dreams and roll them into one / I’d want to be … Neil Young.” (That track is entitled “Neil Young,” of course, and it really does capture the simple-but-raucous fervor of its namesake.)

While strongly conjuring the sound of Young, Bob Dylan, and a cavalcade of other ’60s-era artists, Dabbs is anything but derivative. His diverse and ever-growing catalog always manages to pay homage to Americana past while sounding remarkably current and original.

Believer is no different, though compared to his more recent releases, it’s a far simpler affair. Perhaps Dabbs needed a good, stiff reminder to stay true to his roots after recently rocketing to prominence with spots on hit TV shows like ABC’s Nashville. In any case, Dabbs as usual combines thoughtful lyrics with choice guitar playing and an oh-so-soothing voice that, similar to Jack Johnson, has a way of helping cares melt away.

“For The Grace Of You” charms immediately with its rustic guitar and drum combination. It’s also a rare bit of faith expression from the notoriously discreet songwriter, providing a treat for those hungry to unite fresh aesthetics with faith. The piece lifts off nicely thanks to gentle drums whirring like a helicopter as Dabbs expresses thankfulness to the endless ways God’s hand sustains the world: “But for the grace of You / The sun would just fold its hands … supply would never meet demand.”

The pop-infused “Make a Believer” illustrates Dabbs’ oddly playful, poetic side. A light thumping rhythm and lively bass provide accompaniment for a dancing romp through a cemetery. Eventually, the journey provokes deeper reflection: “Giving my attention to the kingdom come / Giving my attention to when the time is up … don’t you go swimming in the watered down ‘cause it’s holy.”

“Here On Earth” finds Dabbs back at the cemetery—this time at a funeral—considering a friend who is, “six feet under, under a beautiful bed of roses / under a Bible as it closes, we’re walking around you.” The mourners speak so many words of love that Dabbs becomes mystified why people seem to save up all their compliments until someone is dead and can’t enjoy them. With a gorgeous mingling of guitar and keyboard, Dabbs complains it’s like, “keeping a candle all of your life / and lighting it up the very last night.”

Believer again proves Dabbs is a master of song craft. Boasting a few simple layers, the songs are nevertheless warm and sumptuous. They also keep Dabbs’ faith cards close to his vest. Religious references abound, but their meaning often seems out of reach. Listeners are left wondering if he’s talking to God, his wife, or just waxing poetic.

Ultimately, Dabbs has to seep in. His songs are not sentences to be finely parsed but sound and mood—more akin to wind and rain than anything else. In this they convey something of the mystery and beauty of God, but rather more like a sunset than a sermon.