World’s Gone Wrong is an album title suited to the times, one that suggests Lucinda Williams is seeking some meaning amid the mayhem. It’s a notion amplified by the song titles: “Something’s Gotta Give,” “How Much Did You Get for Your Soul,” “Freedom Speaks,” and “We’ve Come Too Far to Turn Around” all seem to address the condition of constant chaos.
Topical as it is, part of World’s Gone Wrong is grounded in tradition. The title derives from “The World Is Going Wrong,” an old blues song by Mississippi Sheiks—one irresistible to Bob Dylan, who named a collection of blues and folk standards World Gone Wrong in 1993—and Bob Marley’s “So Much Trouble in the World” has a prominent place on the record, closing out its first side. Williams sings “So Much Trouble in the World” as a duet with Mavis Staples, and the soul legend is hardly the only guest here. Norah Jones plays on the placid closer “We’ve Come Too Far to Turn Around,” Willie Nelson’s right-hand man Mickey Raphael lends harmonica to “Low Life,” and upcoming country singer Brittney Spencer sings on a pair of songs.
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All these additional voices add the slightest suggestion of communion to World’s Gone Wrong: Everybody is banding together to gather strength so they can pull through. With its stately spiritual crawl, “We’ve Come Too Far to Turn Around” makes the connection explicit, but that song serves as the record’s benediction, closing the proceedings on a note of elegiac hope. For the rest of the record, Williams revels in the comfort of rock’n’roll, encouraging her band to play loud even when they’re playing slow.
The band, which remains anchored by bassist David Sutton and now features onetime Emmylou Harris drummer Brady Blade and former Black Crowes guitarist Marc Ford, sounds big and greasy, as comfortable with a slow, Stones-y swagger of “The World’s Gone Wrong” as they are with the swampy blues of “Black Tears” or the spritely soul of “Freedom Speaks.” There’s a casual, authoritative swing to their performance that belies the stylistic range on the record; the songs touch upon different traditions, yet all sound of a piece.
Their professionalism does lack a sense of urgency, though. When Williams sings about “false gods and deceivers, playing on our deepest fears” on “Punchline,” it’s to a modulated, noir-ish blues; when she laments, “There’s a heaviness to these days… I think we’ve lost our way” on “Something’s Gotta Give,” the guitars and rhythms offer moody, muscular support. The suppleness of the band softens Williams’ tales of despair, transforming them into songs of solace, not outrage. This isn’t an album designed to provoke action; it’s to console kindred spirits. To that end, the key song is “Low Life,” a slow-burner about a dive bar where Slim Harpo’s playing on the jukebox, the bartender pours good hurricanes, and nobody knows her face. “I guess this is the lowlife, but it’s where I wanna be,” Williams sighs as she sinks into a groove that feels so familiar, it seems eternal. Sometimes, those familiar chord changes provide enough sustenance to get by.
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