Jamie O'Neal - Gypsum
BFD/Audium Nashville
***1/2
The term 'triumphant return' might be thrown around too casually, but it certainly applies to Jamie O’Neal and GYPSUM. The one-time country hit-maker (There Is No Arizona, When I Think About Angels, etc) and 4-times Grammy nominated performer, shows that even with more than four decades in the game, she retains an appetite for examination and evolution. A stirring, propulsive mix of meditations on perseverance, love and finding your way through life, she also proves her mettle as a writer and vocalist. Her wide, signature voice intact, she is one of those fortunate few whose vocal prime and musical maturity overlap by a good many years. There seems to be a more exacting line between her country and pop moods, but both are comfortably lying side by side on this latest offering. Listening to the sheer spirit behind her singing, though, it almost seems silly to confine Jamie O’Neal to the boundaries of one genre or the other. This is a terrific album, passionate and twangy, that swings between tender ballads and florid melodies with soaring crescendos, all with Jamie’s expressive voice at the centre. A rewarding listen, making for some of her strongest work yet. In taking control of her music and finding peace within herself, Jamie most certainly has all the words and notes right where they belong.
She uses her talent to full effect on a diverse selection of songs that find her varying both tone and texture, while striking an ideal balance between the earnest and the effusive. Several offerings illustrate that ability to an ideal extent. One of the more lyrically intriguing tracks, Ole Heartache, is a classic-sounding country tune that depicts a heartache as a reliable friend, overtly warning of trouble ahead in a new relationship. With haunting steel and harmonica alongside a steady rhythm, this features Jamie’s singular voice front and centre, dripping with heartfelt passion. John Deere Letter and All The Same each share a resolute ramble that rings with clear conviction. There’s genuine emotion imparted within each of these performances, and even when she opts to kick up the tempo, with the infectious Slippery Slope, a tale of young lovers, her delivery ensures it becomes more than a mere romp that leaves the listener with little to chew on, once the final notes fade away.
There’s a moodier vibe to Just Whiskey. Draped in silky steel, a throbbing beat, and dramatic electric guitar, this powerful song takes a different approach to alcoholism, with devastating effect. Here again, Jamie’s emotionally emphatic vocals are rich and resonant, leaving an indelible imprint on the lyrics, and giving the song the depth it deserves. Flowers And Fireflies, written by her late sister Samantha Murphy, is awash with atmosphere. The lush, layered production—guitars echoing, simulated orchestral strings and pop-styled harmonies rising out of the mist—pulses and surges with hope. The final two songs, Change It Now and Liberty, seem at odds with rest of the album, as she takes a political stance, that I’m not sure really works. The latter, penned by Josia Eden, is an earworm ready-made for a sing-along at her concerts. In similar style, Change It Now, kind of puts her at the head of a protest, exhorting ordinary people to come together to make for a better World. Jamie’s personal resonance with the lyrics is obvious here, and she invites the listener to join in. It makes for a stirring end to the album but just doesn’t work for me. It takes the edge off what could have been an exceptionally well-rounded set of songs.
January 2026