Hope You’re Happy Now by Grant Langston

By Gerry Gomez

They say that breaking up is hard to do. Some might choose to drink away their sorrows, others would get mad at the world and lash out in emotional rage. Still others might cocoon themselves up, lick their wounds and retreat from everyone. In the case of Los Angeleno and country troubadour Grant Langston, you write songs.

The local Honky Tonker’s new album, Hope You’re Happy Now, is peppered with songs of lost dreams and broken marriages, presented with cynicism, humor and irony with frequent turn of a phrase that lifts Langston’s writing to an elevated place from the fray of Johnny-come-lately’s. Langston’s songs are sung as tales that unfold quietly finding their way from a deep internal well to the surface where he wrangles with them – finally finding a place where he seems to be able to cope with their subject matter. In doing so, he joins the lineage of artists who do what the vast majority of folks can’t do; present yourself as an artist, warts and all.

Done with equal parts grit, angst, and subtle musicianship, the California Roots Union co-founder has made an old-school record of good ‘ol songwriting. It’s sad country songs to drink away one’s sorrows.

“Breaking Hearts” is grab a drink at the bar tune plainly calling out an ex-wife on her trespasses that culminates with the chorus, “Birds are for flying, dreams are for dying, you my dear, you’re for breaking hearts.”

“Fading Fast” puts into words the worn out expression Langston has on his album cover and eloquently sums up his frazzled state of mind, “Like a knight in shining armor that’s going out to meet the tanks. If it seems like I am drifting past, it’s only because I am fading fast.”

“In Don’t You Dare,” Langston lists his many shortcomings that may have been pointed out by his ex but adamantly defends the one higher truism that he always was in love. “Tell all your friends I’m a liar, your friends know that me and the truth don’t always get along. Tell them I’m worthless and lazy, all I care about is having a laugh and writing a song… but don’t you dare, don’t you dare say I never loved you.”

Langston finally brings around the whole album with back to back songs that point him forward from looking back, “Me and the Misses” puts to rest his informal protest heretofore and “Me and Margaret” finally exits the album looking forward with the blissful tale about lazy drinking days with a woman who’s the yin to his yang.

Langston has said that he wanted to make a quiet album but he’s made one that roars in its strength of songwriting.

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