Texan Charlie Robison built up quite a following in his native state and around the country with his first two Americana-bleached albums. Robison's balls-out, hardcore troubadour image and music were as real as the scuffs on his boots. As his career was gaining steam, the singer/songwriter married Emily Erwin of the Dixie Chicks. Robison released two studio albums while married to Erwin, 2001's Step Right Up and 2004's Good Times, but his music took a backseat (in the media at least) to his marriage. After Good Times, Robison vanished for nearly five years before resurfacing in 2009 with Beautiful Day, a ten-song collection that was written and recorded during his divorce from Erwin. The singer's marital split clearly influenced the songwriting and song selection for Beautiful Day. Robison channels the ghost of heartache on tracks like the saturnine "Down Again" and the equally melancholic "Reconsider." The latter, a jingle-jangle country number with whimpering steel guitar and rippling organ, is a pain-soaked tune that cuts to the core of loneliness. "Yellow Blues" borrows the backbone from Steve Earle's "I Feel Alright," and marries it to a pointed set of lyrics. "Promises are overrated/vows have just become outdated, ain't it true," Robison sings. It's not all black clouds and thunder on Beautiful Day. "Feelin' Good" is a ray of Americana sunshine. Robison bangs out a folky rhythm on his acoustic guitar as mandolin and accordion punctuate the cheery melody and lyrics. Other than a pedestrian cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Racing in the Street,," Beautiful Day is a solid effort from one of Americana's most underappreciated singer/songwriters. ~ Todd Sterling, All Music Guide
While categories like alternative country can help identify the kind of music a certain artist plays, they can also be confusing. If a singer like Charlie Robison plays country music but doesn't receive play on mainstream country music stations, does that automatically make him alternative? Or do lyrics like "For your footprint in the sand, did you hear the ocean singin'" make him a singer/songwriter with country backing? Good Times conjures up such questions because Robison isn't a mainstream country singer, but seems like he's playing country music because it's part of who he is and how he thinks, not because a friend loaned him a George Jones album in college. The title cut is an upbeat ode to having a big time by getting stoned out of one's gourd, the type of song Merle Haggard used to toss off without a thought. "The Bottom," on the other hand, is a sad weeper about the woman who got away, a song that Jones might've sung in his heyday. Then again, Robison's entertaining and raunchy "Love Means Never Having to Say You're Hungry" probably couldn't be played on country radio even if a DJ wanted to. It's times like these when Robison sounds a bit too clever for straight country. His band, however, utilizes acoustic guitars, fiddles, and Dobros, and these arrangements keep the whole affair grounded. Good Times finally qualifies as solid country release that will nonetheless appeal to the alternative crowd. ~ Ronnie D. Lankford Jr., All Music Guide
You can practically smell the spilled beer and nachos throughout this second live album from the poet laureate of Hill Country hangovers. Aside from the last track, Live was recorded at Gruene Hall in New Braunfels, well within the corona of Austin, with Robison at the peak of his laconic powers. Backed by his band, the Enablers, he takes his time with songs that generally flow lazily past, slicked by a mix of Lone Star and steel guitar. Several tracks stand out: Some, such as the foot-stomp, Irish-inspired "John O'Reilly," ring like alarm bells and briefly shatter the sodden reverie. Others provide goofball interludes, especially "Life of the Party," whose grade-school scatology is more endearing than offensive. And there are moments that approach poetry, especially on Robison's rendition of his brother's "Tonight," whose evocation of teenage life in a tiny Texas town is as vivid as any scene you might choose from The Last Picture Show. As for that last song, "Walter," a case could be made that this crisply produced coda, cut with a bunch of studio pros in Nashville, should have been saved for some upcoming project. It's too much of an anomaly here -- a bit too polished. It's good, but hell, it ain't Live. ~ Robert L. Doerschuk, All Music Guide
There was once a time when one could easily identify the roots of country music. English, German, French, Irish, and even African-American influences came together to create this genre. Charlie Robison and his music reflect that time, but he is in no way merely referencing a purer time. He has learned lessons from his ancestors and has truly made his own sound. His rugged good looks and obvious intelligence could easily make him a poster boy for alternative country, but a deeper listen to his third release Step Right Up will reveal much more than a pretty face. The lyrics range from tender to biting to brutal and are delivered with an honesty and wit lost throughout today's country charts. Songs about murder, robbery, and stale love capture the imagination of the listener while always being thoughtful and compassionate. Robison collected a large and varied group of musicians to make this record. Notables include his brother Bruce Robison who contributes his words and his voice, session legend Jim Lauderdale who sings backing vocals, and Robinson's wife Emily Robison (Dixie Chicks) who plays banjo on several tracks. Robison is telling stories in his songs more than he is conveying feelings or desires. This too is a lost tradition from what was country music. "Desperate Times" chronicles the life of a lost Texas youth, and "John O'Reilly" oozes Irish influence with the story of an immigrant in Depression-era America. The album also includes a funny yet sadly true duet with Dixie Chick Natalie Maines called "The Wedding Song." Ultimately, Charlie Robison's Step Right Up demonstrates that sometimes an alternative is where it started in the beginning. ~ Michael Cusanelli, All Music Guide
Lucky Dog labelmates Jack Ingram and Bruce and Charlie Robison provide a virtual label sampler on this equally divided concert album recorded at Gruene Hall in New Bruanfels, TX. The three constitute a kind of South Central Texas version of the Flatlanders, that occasional triumvirate of Joe Ely, Butch Hancock, and Jimmie Dale Gilmore from West Texas. Each is a singer-songwriter with a Southwest perspective and an interest in bars, drinking, heartbreak, and working class life. Bruce Robison, who leads things off with four songs, comes off as the most sensitive and literate of the three, calling up his older brother to sing with him on "Rayne, Louisiana" and performing the divorce song "Angry All the Time" as a duet with Kelly Willis. Charlie Robison, who takes the lead on the middle four songs, is a crowd pleaser, filling his songs with drug and drinking references and lacing them with humor and melodrama, especially "Sunset Boulevard," in which he fantasizes about the kind of fame and fortune in the entertainment business that would allow him to forget a recent heartbreak, and the lengthy story song "Loving County," with its images of violence and infidelity. Concluding things, Jack Ingram rocks harder than either of the brothers, but his songs are still rooted in the ambiance of a Texas barroom. And it sounds like they're all playing in a Texas barroom, as the audience hoots and hollers and sings along. This is the kind of live album that makes you wish you were there, with a beer in your hand and another couple under your belt. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
Charlie Robison is a strong branch on that ever-growing tree of Texas singer/songwriters. His brother, Bruce, and sister-in-law, Kelly Willis, also contribute to the strength of production that Charlie and Lloyd Maines bring forth on this project. But, overall, it is Charlie's raw emotion and exposed nerve endings that make this release on the independent Lucky Dog label so attractive. Devastating is his "Sunset Boulevard," just as his wry humor comes forth on the very honky tonk "Barlight." The border sounds of "Don't Call Me a Fool" are intoxicating, while the steel on the Bruce Robison tune "You're Not the Best" takes the listener back in time to 1959. Covering Damon Bramblett's tune "Waiting for the Mail" allows Robison to show his bluesy side. Softer is "Indianola," and finishing the set, which started off with rip and roar via "Poor Man's Son," is "Molly's Blues." Overall, Charlie Robison turns in a well-layered performance of material that expresses a wide variety of emotions, situations, and characters. The musicianship here is first-rate; Maines on steel is well worth the price of admission in any event. A good introduction to the work of Charlie Robison and Texas singer/songwriters who are following in the footsteps of the outlaws Van Zandt, Clark, and Billy Joe Shaver. ~ Jana Pendragon, All Music Guide