Whitney Lockert

After nearly a decade in New York City, alt-country rocker Whitney Lockert finds refuge and renewal in Los Angeles and classic country/rock songcraft on his sophomore LP, Long Way to California (out July 15). The record plays like a series of musical postcards from pasts and futures, both real and imagined, and draws on Lockert’s varied work with artists like Nigerian reggae star Majek Fashek, and former lead guitarist of The Black Crowes, Marc Ford. 

Long Way to California is about recognizing where you are and searching for something new, learning from mistakes and triumphs, and seeking contentment among the confusions of modern life. Lockert pens wry and deadly honest lyrics, lightened with occasional touches of levity. His musical brilliance stems from an encyclopedic knowledge and reverence for stalwart Americana bards like Neil Young, Tom Petty, Merle Haggard, Steve Earle, and Buck Owens. He toys with classic country tropes, subverting them with humor and modern insight, while blending them with anthemic folk rock, psychedelic guitar leads and the occasional Bakersfield lilt.

Album opener and title track “Long Way to California” lays out the album’s themes of seeking contentment and a place in the world. It contemplates leaving everything behind and hitting the road “in an old dirty car,” in search of a place to “build something old.” It’s about looking for love, stability, and room to grow. The song basks in Lockert’s layered guitars and velvety, baritone vocals. The subdued organ, punchy guitar leads and synced piano melodies build into an anthemic love letter to a Golden State of the mind, free of the cramped confines of the city. 

“I grew up in the Bay Area, then lived in New York for a long time,” says Lockert. “Through Hurricane Sandy, good and bad roommates, and many other ups and downs, I sometimes  felt more connected to humanity than ever, and sometimes more isolated… I came to see the dream of California and the frontier of the West in ways I never had before, the appeal of its open spaces, its freedom from a certain kind of history. I was also imagining finding the right person to settle down with, and it just worked out that long after writing the song, I found that person, packed it up and headed west.” 

“Girl On a Train” is a New York love song, a tale of gentle flirtation across subway platforms. There’s hope and melancholy in Lockert’s voice as he sings of two strangers, who never were and never will be, sharing a moment before going on to lead their separate lives. The “Girl on a Train” video finds Lockert drifting in and out of consciousness in a theater, dreaming about what could be. Hypnotic found footage and classic horror film clips simulate the subway experience as strange characters, some beautiful, some disturbing, come and go. Lockert makes peace with his journey as a gorgeous harmonized chorus lulls him to sleep. The transient, warm pedal steel brings him back to life as he reaches his last stop on Myrtle Avenue.

Album closer “Staten Island Blues” was written after Eric Garner’s murder at the hand of NYC police officers on July 7, 2014. Sadly, the song seems only to gain relevance with the passage of time and further events. Lockert’s guitar speaks as poignantly as his lyrics on this song, building from quiet lyricism to a full-on howl of emotion at the song’s climax. 

“I Think I Blew It” is driven by a mellow yet propulsive guitar hook coupled with lyrics full of humorous hindsight; its wry self-effacement and psychedelic touches suggest the hazy rock of Kurt Vile. It’s a song about laughing at one’s own “a-ha moments,” realized just a little too late. Grunge-infused cosmic country track “Not to Judge” stems from an off-handed comment thrown out by a companion in a New York taxi cab between bumps of cocaine. It’s about the choices we make in the moment and their consequences. 

“Everyone Makes A Mistake or Two” is an alt-country ballad about learning emotional intelligence, wrecking relationships and cars, and maybe drinking too much along the way. “We Were There” reflects on growing older and nostalgically looks back at growing up in a small town and simpler times. “This Disguise” continues the theme of growing up and figuring out “how to live” in a chaotic world. It pulls no emotional punches, showcasing Lockert’s undeniable ability to make his guitar sing with its own tragic voice. He invokes the spirit of Duane Allman jamming with Crazy Horse as he strangleholds blue notes that dance and shriek with transcendent ecstasy.

“The Desert and the Sea” finds Lockert envisioning life in Los Angeles, while still unsure if it’s time to go. Its gentle, West African-inspired fingerpicking and country pedal steel complement Lockert’s lulling vocals in this vacation-ready ode to rebuilding. Contemplating the push and pull of relationships, Lockert sings, “You want to go and I want to stay/And sometimes it feels like it’s slipping away/But I come around every once in a while/Back to the place that I found in your smile.” Maybe the time for construction is over for Lockert, who says that he wrote this song for a friend, as he settles into his new life of temperateness and relaxation.