The self-titled debut album from Australian ‘baroque indie-bush balladeer’ Watty Thompson is out now through Cheatin’ Hearts Records.

Cutting his own swathe across furrows of country, folk and indie rock, Watty has delivered a new sound that is caring in its intent.  With the singles “Jenny”, “The Beauty That Surrounds Ya”, “City To Run” and recently “The Only Heart I’m Breakin’ (Is My Own) finding a place on the nation’s airwaves and a growing reputation as a live performer with the ability to illicit both tears of sorrow and joy, Watty Thompson, with new album in hand, has truly arrived.

Watty’s debut album kicks off with “By Your Side”, an early show of the heart bound intent on offer. Pastural sounds and a coming storm back a gentle devotional contemplation as the collected players slowly introduce their twangy punctuations. From the outset, there is no doubt of Thompson’s honest voice, it’s pure, and slightly tarnished, but above all relatable as it stretches against an urgent foxtrot as the band gathers pace.

Watty offers that the album’s opening salvo is, “a tribute to dear friends and the importance of being there for one another.”

“Jenny”, the albums’ second single arrives next and for a man that claims to be not able to express his feelings, Thompson makes a pretty good fist of it here. As the band swings in their country flavoured pocket, streams of truth flow forth. The song, a private conversation that we are listening to in the eaves, shifts upwardly through gears of emotion, till you might find yourself telling those around you, “I’m not crying, you’re crying”.

Watty describes that “a lot of blokes in this country are not great at expressing their emotions and in turn are not able to be there emotionally for their partners as they struggle to piece together words of support. Written from first-hand experience as all of these tunes are. Once you realise a downfall though you can begin to work on it and improve. I’m learning that life is about exciting growth.”

The bushwacking imbiber’s regret, “A Revolving Lament” is the rueful inner dialogue of the drinker, a note to self to curb excess, though as the title suggests, it’s a continuing monologue that most of us “off the wagoners” can identify with. But don’t expect pious AA lecturing here, the whole thing is delivered tongue bulging in cheek as the writer’s ID counters this reasoning, “if you’ve got problems, just ignore them, sink them to the murky bottom, drink it down until you fall asleep.”

Watty more succinctly calls it, “a little ditty about a love/hate relationship with the grog and living in a country where it’s hard to get away from the stuff.”

“City To Run” is a rallying cry for tree change, reflecting the singer’s own move back to “country sunsets and a nice clean head”, far away from the bustle and vice of the city. Against the rollicking backing, Thompson makes a pretty damn good case for rural retreat, even if it’s just a metaphysical one, where time and space are abundant.

Of the song, Watty says that “it’s, the tale of leaving the big smoke and moving back to the country. A tongue-in-cheek, scathing and brutally honest rock-and-roll take on the best decision that’s ever been made for myself and my music – with some pigeons, wombats and other colourful characters thrown in.”

.

.

The most recent single “The Only Heart I’m Breaking (Is My Own)” is a message to self-love, a note to self to start caring for the place that needs to heal most, the place inside yourself that is filled with fear and self-doubt. It’s about giving yourself a break, and fk knows we all need it. Thompson’s infectious sense of hope permeates throughout.

“A little reminder to be kinder to yourself”, the singer offers. “There’s no point going through life beating yourself up.”

.

Watty expands this as “the importance of stopping and taking a moment away from the chaos of the modern day to remind ourselves of how beautiful life is and just how lucky we are to be on this incredible planet living it.”

“Four Chooks” is a proposal, on bended knee, laying out Thompson’s intent for a future with his paramour. A simple, solo rendition backed by warm acoustic fingers on nylon that opens into a cavernous spacious reverb as the singer paints a scenic idyll and a simple life where love is the bounty. Its honesty is disarming, and no doubt charming for the object of the singer’s intent.

“Another love song for Bertha”, Watty admits. “Envisioning what life might look like together further down the wondrous road to the future. Recorded live in a bush theatre and art gallery that is ran by Berthas Uncle Andy.”

“On Your Shoulder” speaks to the resolve of following your dreams, being true to the inspiration that drives you. The band rise up, all riff and electricity, Thompson gives his premiership quarter address, imparting a wisdom gained from following through, pushing through self-doubt, the wind is at your back, victory is in sight, and so he sings “it would be a terrible scene, to give up on your dreams, before they flower.”

“Without sounding like a quote from a couch cushion at Kmart, this one’s about not giving up on your dreams”, Watty offers.

“Mountain Sage” with its crying machine, pedal steel and tape loops brings a heavy cosmic shift, as the singer’s seismic grief is laid out for the passing of his maternal lifeforce. Working through to the pieces that are left it takes a steely resolve not to well up with the raw and honest emotion delivered here. A palpable sorrow that affects, a high watermark of feeling on a collection that isn’t short on tear-jerking moments. Hang on, I just need a minute…

Watty calls this emotional zenith on the album, “a summary of the grief felt after losing my Mum while including some sage wisdom on the matter passed onto me by a wise man on a mountain top. A complete spilling of the guts but also hope to provide a sense of comfort to others who are navigating grief.”

“Coming Home” is a suitable lament to follow and close as the listener gathers composure, the journey toward hope brings some relief. A carefully reaching song that looks to pull up from the bootstraps, situations dire. To offer respite and a hand to hold while you get it all back together.

A narrative that we have all been unfortunately touched by, Watty describes the album’s closer as, “the all too familiar story of losing a friend who unexpectedly decides to depart earth on their own accord.”