Jason Isbell’s sophomore album was released two years after his debut, in 2009, and marked a break from his Drive-By Truckers past. Rather than utilizing backing musicians and producers from his former band, he formed his own quartet.
Named the 400 Unit after the psychiatric unit of a hospital in Florence, Alabama, the band would be credited on most of Isbell’s future recordings. And they would help shift his music away from his Southern rock roots to a more folk rock/Americana sound. He named the album after the new band, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit.
If I have a slight beef with this album, it’s the lengths of the songs. The record has 12 tracks, one of which is a short instrumental, and runs just under an hour. That makes for a few songs pushing five, six and even seven minutes. And while I don’t think any good song can be too long, I prefer a variety in song length across an album.
Fortunately, the songs are consistently good. Isbell is in fine voice and goes to interesting places lyrically. Opener ‘Seven-Mile Island’ is a bluesy shuffle that blends Alabama history with the tale of a troubled couple. ‘Soldiers Got Strange’ tackles PTSD in a style straight out of the 90s alternative scene.
My favorite song on the album, and the first track so far that I would put on Isbell’s all-timer list, is ‘Streetlights.’ Its hypnotic melody rolls out over delicate guitars and subtle drums as Isbell sings about a man stumbling home after a night of drinking.
She don’t act like she needs me now and she don’t even seem to be upset
Maybe I cover too much ground, I’ve been from town to town since I grew up
Could my dreams take up too much space? I’ll never find a place that’s big enough
The chairs go up on the bar now, and the table lights go black
So I order one last double and start calling people back
Marc sounds good, he’s been working hard. Couldn’t punch a card to save his life
Says he’s glad that he quit the road, he says he’s getting old, he missed his wife
Little Em’s been asleep since nine, I’m sure she’s doing fine, she always is
Dad won’t answer his phone at night, but I guess that’s alright, the place is his
The chairs are up on the bar now and they’re asking me to leave
So I give the girl a bill and start rolling down my sleeves
In my pocket directions back across the railroad tracks to where I crash
Maybe I should wave down a car, I won’t be going far, and I have cash
Think I blocked just a park away, but I can’t really say, it’s been all night
How I wish you would call me here, but you just disappeared, it wasn’t right
And the streetlights help a little, but they’re barely half alive
I don’t feel much like walking and I sure as hell can’t drive
Close your eyes and remember this. It won’t be back again, it’s almost gone
Even times that don’t seem like much will be your only crutch when you’re alone
Time moves slow when you’re seventeen and then it picks up steam at twenty-one
Pretty soon you’ll remember when you could remember when you loved someone
Meet Me In Montauk 
Interesting decision to name your band after a psych ward.
A “short instrumental “ running just under an hour? Did I get that right? I can understand your issue with the timing 😊
The whole album runs just under an hour 😀
oops that makes sense 🤷♀️
This is the Isabell I fell in love with earlier this year.
The combination of his voice, his delivery, the specificity
of his lyrics…I’m all in.