Last of the Better Days Ahead by Charlie Parr [Album Review]
TL;DR -- Singer/songwriter and guitarist extraordinaire Charlie Parr dropped this incredible record called Last of the Better Days Ahead back in 2021. I think it's amazing and I'll tell you why.
Charlie Parr is a name that really should’ve been on my radar long before 2021, but I spent the better part of the twenty teens trying to find music for the robot ear and then, once I found Phish, exploring their vast catalog. So I’m still trying to catch up on what I’ve missed.
In fact, I didn’t even catch this album when it was first released. I found Charlie Parr and this album because the song “817 Oakland Avenue” was used in Season Five, Episode Four of the TV series “Better Things”, a fabulous show starring the incredible Pamela Aldon that ran for five seasons.
Once the song began playing in the episode, it was as if time stood still and the only things that existed in the world were me and that song. I couldn’t believe my ear. Here was this brilliantly written, beautiful song about the right way to live life, and it swept me off my feet.
I later learned that Charlie Parr is heavily involved in helping the homeless and less fortunate in Minnesota, and while I can’t find any confirmation, I suspect that 817 Oakland Avenue is the street address of some place that helps folks in Minnesota. As a person who has spent a lot of time in rescue missions, soup kitchens and amongst the homeless, I feel as if Charlie Parr is speaking for people I have encountered (and the people I’ve been) in such places.
Here’s the official video of the song.
Now, you may think from the way this review is starting that there’s only one song on the whole darn record, but that ain’t the case. The album Last of the Better Days Ahead opens with the title track, a humdinger of a tune that beautifully captures the feeling that overcomes many middle aged men as they reflect upon their lives and all the things that used to matter, wondering how they can recapture some of that old magic or if that old magic is just gone forever.
It’s about having a head full of nostalgia, sentimentality, and an aching over the youth that used to be only to realize that the past always shines a little brighter than it actually did, and the better days that one used to anticipate now grow fewer and farther apart.
While Parr’s finger picking on “Last of the Better Days Ahead” is rapid fire and precise, his style shifts for second song “Blues for Whitefish Lake, 1975”, where Parr demonstrates the power of the “less is more” aesthetic. The song is a memory, or maybe a dream, or somewhere in between… a meditation, revisiting a moment in his mind.
“Walking Back From Wilmar” is a tale of a down on his luck fella named Tony who was walking from the town of Wilmar and tries to get out of the cold by seeking shelter in a church, only to discover the door locked. Tony used to be a security guard, but seems to be unemployed and is bumming around in the hopes that his luck will change. He keeps saying he’s gonna head somewhere warmer, but it ain’t happened yet. Everybody knows a Tony, and before the album is over, we’ll be introduced to several other folks who live on or just outside the margins of society.
The whole album is a demonstration of Parr’s skills as a guitarist, “Anaconda” really shows off his mastery of the instrument. The lyrics again involve characters who fell through the holes in the social safety net and are forced to occupy the margins of society, too bereft of resources to break in to the “normal” society.
“Everyday Opus” tells the story of a fella who lives alone and is just trying to keep the bills paid. He narrates his walk to the bus stop, then describes his job as an office cleaner who works in the evenings when the office workers are gone for the day. After work, he ponders whether or not to go out to eat and decides to head home instead. Once at home, he locks himself inside to watch TV, eat, and drink a few beers. He considers reaching out to friends and maybe arranging to meet, but it seems more trouble than it’s worth. He wakes up hungover, considers calling in sick but can’t reach the boss. So he heads out to work. In this tale, our character lives at the fringes of society and occasionally interacts, but feels intimidated by it all and keeps to himself for the most part.
“On Fading Away” is a meditative piece about falling in the creek and floating downstream with the current until realizing that it’s too late to turn back and considering maybe just riding it all the way to the Gulf. Again, Parr’s guitar work creates just the perfect backdrop for the tale he tells.
I mentioned “817 Oakland Avenue” at the top of this article, but the potency of that song bears repeating. The message, the delivery… everything about it is just exactly perfect… This is the kind of song that you just don’t encounter every day. Spread it around, do.
“On Listening to Robert Johnson” is exactly what the title implies, but in my head, it’s not about listening to Robert Johnson for the first time. It’s about someone who’s already quite familiar with Johnson’s work who is walking through the night. He hears these songs come from a house, and lays on the ground outside to experience the songs once more.
“Bed of Wasps” returns to the meditative mindset that Parr visits on other songs in this album. This time it’s more vague, more loaded imagery, with nameless people, with emotions of fear, and uncertainty. It is a dream? Is it real? What are dreams anyway? It’s a mood piece, an emotional collage that isn’t trying (and doesn’t need) to explain itself.
“Rain” is an abstract painting of a song. It tells the story of a migrant who is crossing the desert with a child strapped to his back, trying to find help. It’s raining so hard that the rain feels like nails hitting his flesh. As he walks on, he reflects on his past. The water source in his home was polluted, and the company responsible refused to do anything about it, and on he walks. He recalls times when he was broken, ailing and unwell, and how no one was there for him. And on he walks. There’s no hope for a happy ending, and as he walks, our migrant eventually falls into the mud, never to rise again. Is it metaphorical or real? Does it matter? The migrant is the same as any of us, alone in a battle against forces far beyond his understanding or control.
“Decoration Day” is a nearly 16 minute instrumental piece. It captures the meditative mood of the whole album, and for the first time on the album, other musicians are present. They compliment Parr’s guitar work, but never get in the way. These musicians are Liz Draper (bass), Tasha Baron (keyboards) and Chris Grey (drums).
On seeing Charlie Parr live, December 4, 2022.
A few months after becoming obsessed with this album, I learned that Charlie Parr would be playing at the Mercury Lounge in New York City on December 4, 2022. I got tickets and managed to be front and center for the show, sitting on the floor directly in front of Charlie Parr for the entire set. (I’m really tall and can obstruct views at concerts, so sometimes, if I’m right up front, I’ll sit on the floor). I was mesmerized by the performance, and still think that every second was a highlight of the evening.
After the show, Charlie was at the merch table, selling copies of his albums and his book (also titled “Last of the Better Days Ahead”). I spoke to him for a few minutes, told him we’d first discovered him through his song’s inclusion on Better Things, and chatted about music in general for a moment. During our conversation, I purchased the last copy of the first printing of Parr’s book and in my starstruck stupidity, I foolishly failed to ask him to autograph my copy of the book.
I’m still kicking myself over that one, but hopefully I’ll see him again and can rectify my previous error.
I found out about Charlie seeing a clip of him playing an old resonator on Instagram. I'm yet to check out any of his albums, but after reading this piece, I think I've found the one to start with!