Heavy Rotation: Eddie Lott - Blame It on My Wild Soul

I am a sucker for an earnest underdog. I also unapologetically harbor a sweet spot for the feeling of southwestern air - that open road beneath the endless Texan sky, those traversed miles littered with American dreams, worn barstools, empty bottles, front porch nights and whiskey-wetted harmonies.

These affinities are anything but mutually exclusive, which should go a long way to explain why a songwriter and musician like Eddie Lott and his songs of Blame It on My Wild Soul possess a gentle magnetism tuned into my own internal frequency.

 

Lott describes his songs as “country music for lost souls.” His preferred backdrop for listeners is a late night drive with no set destination and Blame It on My Wild Soul as the soundtrack to get lost to. Perhaps it won’t come as much of a surprise that this is also one of my ideals avenues for absorbing records in totality, and Lott’s songs of wanderlust and introspective grappling succeed in warm, rewarding fashion.

“I’m always alone in my mind. They say that men cannot survive these islands, but I will, or at least I will die trying.”

The definitive influence for nearly any upstart country-tinged songwriter from west of the Mississippi and south of the Rockies in the past forty years or so is, naturally, Townes, and Lott is no exception. Having been playing guitar for more than twenty years, Lott says it wasn’t until, years after giving up on music and founding a green DIY waste management business in North Texas, he wandered into a bar and heard a desperado cover of a Van Zandt tune that hit him squarely and fueled a fire to go all in on his songwriting, record an album and lay the foundation for a serious musical career.

In the years between deciding to leap the uncertain chasm and Blame It on My Wild Soul coming to fruition (released September 27), Lott won a Dallas songwriter competition, recorded a series of demos (that would eventually end up comprising BIOMWS) on an iPhone, enlisted the skills of Austin-based producer Bryan Ray (Lonely Child), and placed his hopes and bets on a Kickstarter campaign that successfully funded the production and completion of the 32-year-old Texan’s debut album.

I first came across Lott’s music when Ray forwarded me four of those iPhone demos in the months prior to the Kickstarter launch. Even then, without proper arrangements and knowing nothing of Lott’s backstory or his motivations, the yearning and passion of his vocals, the evocative precision of his lyrics and the beating heart of his songs spoke to me. The more I listened, the more I heard something of a kindred spirit who I couldn’t help but root for. It’s a communicative exchange through strangers, but the intangible magic of good songs like these is how, with artifice stripped away and a yearning artist’s personal expression on display and set to melodic and pedal steel-accented accompaniment, this music becomes more like a dialogue between compadres. It’s the sort of relationship Lott reminisces about and celebrates on “From One Soul to Another” (#FOTSA).

“I miss your soul next to mine / I was hoping that you would sing a song with me...Is it strange for me to say I miss you all the time? / From one soul to another / not like lovers, friends or brothers / more like porches, guitars and wine.”

These are Lott’s songs and it’s not difficult to hear a burning man throwing his all into taking his shot at his own American dream, but I always feel like an accomplice on the journey when I listen to the record. Perhaps, like many records that feel good to get lost to, its loveliest strength is its relatability for the listener. I’m a fan of Lott and his songs and, should my saying somehow lead you astray, I guess you can blame it on our wild souls.  

Buy/Listen: Blame It on My Wild Soul