The title track is a detailed biography song, filling in many details of his small-town life, and especially his promise that "I swear I would go / Far from those cornfields and coal." Set to a smooth waltz, the song carries on to tell of him buying his first guitar, learning to play, and leaving town. It then zooms out to sing praise of other small towns just like it across the Midwest before focusing back in to the stone waiting for him in the family's plot. So many credible lines are packed into this tune, and every word rings true.
"Time Bomb" is a nearly Jason Aldean-esque rocker about, as Jason himself put it, "hey, I like going fast and breaking stuff." It doesn't much have to say beyond that ("Got a time bomb tickin' underneath my hood," he sings of his car), but it has a tight groove and lots of dirty guitar work, adding up to just a rowdy, fun song that's sure to kick things up in concert. Similarly, "Sunday Funday" has a rapid-fire delivery and lyric about little more than, well, just having fun and floating down the river on an inner tube. Yes, there are hot babes in bikinis, and yes, there are alcoholic beverages. But does it sound fun? Yes, and in a song of this sort, that's the most important factor. (Although the Dobro fills sure and spoken interludes don't hurt.)
Jeff Healey's 1989 hit "Angel Eyes" is the only cover song here. Having never heard this song before I sat down to write the review, I checked the original, and I'm surprised that it hasn't been a more popular country cover. The original has a smooth, Rodney Crowell-meets-Vince Gill vibe and a simple but effective lyric of falling in love. Sturegon's take swaps out the slide guitar for steel, and goes for a softer, more slow-burning vocal delivery that gives the song its own feel without destroying the character of the original.
"Why Baby Why," not to be confused with the George Jones song, is a fine midtempo about a breakup. He recalls their marriage eight years ago, then jumps back into the present, and questions just why she is leaving. That question is never really answered, nor are many others, but the emotions are understandable, Jason's delivery low and nearly tearing up throughout. But as the ballads go, "I Never Got to Be Your Dad" is the true standout. It's a perfectly-written song about the emotions felt by a dad whose baby son dies after only nine weeks, reflecting on all the memories he won't get to have — playing with the son, watching him grow, watching him date and borrow the car, and so on. Easily, this is the best song on the album.
The steel-and-fiddle interplay of "Country Girl" brings to mind an early Alan Jackson cut, but lyrics like "A cool country charm like it was shot from a gun" and "The work's all done and it's Friday night / Silver moon shinin' like a big spotlight" add charm and smarts to a song about a hot country girl in a truck. For a well-worn trope like that, this song really does its best to find new approach it, and pulls it off with surprising ease. Much later on, he's drawn to a waitress wearing a tattoo sporting "If you can't take me as I am, you better watch me go" in a bar. He buys her drinks to loosen her up and get her dancing. It's a bit of a stretch story-wise, but again, the lyrical detail is sharp, and the smooth mid-tempo feel of the song goes down easily.
"Lost Our Minds," sounding much like a bizarro-world "A Country Boy Can Survive" while Sturgeon laments the lack of jobs, affairs in the Middle East, and other worldly troubles, and questions if we've all lost our minds. He defends his rights to his guns and land in the chorus as well, but his arguments are understandable and worth stating, and he sings them convincingly and passionately, without sounding overly defensive or angry. Especially given his vocal delivery and the tough production, it's amazing that Montgomery Gentry didn't end up cutting this song.
Closing off the album is "My Friends Call Me Jay" ("why do five-letter names even have abbreviations?", asks the guy who refuses to go by "Bob"). "My luck's turned around and I'm as happy as a pig in mud," he sings about his constant dues-paying and Nashville aspirations. As one with similar aspirations but less experience, I can't help but smile and nod my head at the subject matter. In verse two, he sings about the physical toll and the desire to hear your song on the radio, just two pieces of the often-complex musical puzzle. All in all, this is a very solid closer to the album.
Cornfields & Coal is a tight ten-song package without a single dud in the bunch. Sturgeon clearly has the seasoning to give his songs heft, and a rough, vaguely Eddie Montgomery-esque voice that gives energy and conviction to every note. The songwriting is sturdy, relying on familiar images but never seeming clichéd, and lending a sense of accessibility without sacrificing personality. As an "indie" act, there's no telling if he'll ever hit the mainstream (although he has gotten enough coverage to warrant a Wikipedia article). But if he does, I know that I'll be able to say that I knew he was pretty darn good all along.
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