M
iranda Lambert’s 11th major-label album opens with a soundscape straight out of a Sergio Leone spaghetti Western. There’s a high-desert whistle, a plucked Spanish-guitar melody, and some ominous church bells, all leading into the cinematic opening track, “Snakeskin Boots.” A showdown is nigh, not between Lambert and some dastardly outlaw, but between the songwriter and her own musical history.
Over the 12 tracks on Crisco, the Grammy-winning country star — more effervescent, loose, and ballsy than ever — shoots down any preconceived notions about who Miranda Lambert is and exactly what kind of country music she makes. Yes, she’s been the vengeful country rocker, most infamously on 2007’s Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. She’s looked inward too, leaving behind the mainstream for the alt-country brilliance of 2016’s double album The Weight of These Wings. And she’s done her share of pop experimentation, releasing irresistible gems like “Baggage Claim,” “Bluebird,” and “Drunk (And I Don’t Wanna Go Home),” with Elle King.
But last summer, she dipped her cowboy boot into disco, teaming up with Chris Stapleton for the glittery collab “A Song to Sing.” That track appears on Crisco, and its dreamy, mirror-ball vibes are the connective tissue of the album, co-produced by Lambert with one of Nashville’s most pop-savvy songwriters, Jesse Frasure.
Much has been made of the project’s Seventies dance-floor sound — “Ain’t we mixin’ country and disco?” she sings in the buttery title track, which she debuted onstage at the ACM Awards in May — but labeling Crisco as a disco album sells it short. It’s not a stunt project, but, similar to what Dolly Parton did on 1978’s dance-ready Heartbreaker, another bold step forward for one of country music’s most adventurous artists.
“Today I ran away and joined the circus/I never felt at home on steady ground,” she sings on “To Everything,” a swooning, strings-assisted fantasy about letting go of the reins. Its chorus, coincidentally or not, echoes the way Elvis Presley would conclude his live version of “Words” — a song written by disco kings the Bee Gees. (Lambert recorded the Gibb brothers’ “Jive Talkin’” for Barry Gibb’s 2021 tribute album to his siblings.)
“Right Where We Left It,” meanwhile, opens with a dance-floor beat and hustles along to Lambert’s reunion with a past lover. On “Sunset Marquis,” an escapist homage to the West Hollywood hotel, Lambert swims close to yacht-rock waters. The result is a breezy album-closing anthem that could have soundtracked a Seventies Aaron Spelling series. Love, exciting and new, indeed.
But Lambert doesn’t let you forget she’s also a woman from Texas. “Whiskey Business” is a drink-in-the-air party starter, where “business is good.” And “Cuttin’ Onions” is a stone-faced kiss-off to an ex without nary a wet eye (save for the ones, she claims, that are welling up over the cutting board).
There’s also a lone cover that drives the album’s roots even deeper into the Me Decade: a gorgeous rendering of Jim Croce’s 1974 posthumous hit “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song.” It’s a spot-on choice for Lambert, a public figure who’s rarely known for public emotion: She prefers to let her music convey what she’s feeling. Her wafting voice suits Croce’s melody perfectly.
Country fans will find few slippery slopes on Crisco. In fact, the only entry that sounds remotely out of place is that opener, “Snakeskin Boots,” which, with its Western imagery, comes across as less swinging Seventies and more swinging saloon doors. Even so, it’s sure to turn heads thanks to Lambert’s featured guest on the song: Ella Langley, who trades lines with Lambert about slipping “the hangman’s noose” and “stealing diamonds” in their cold-blooded footwear. The song is both empowering and fun, and like the majority of Crisco, teaches an ages-old genre some new steps.
