Chip Robinson

Last year's arrival of Mylow, Chip Robinson's debut solo album, was a long time coming for those who held his old band the Backsliders in high regard. Circa 1995, the Backsliders were the great hope of North Carolina alt-country, along with young Ryan Adams' outfit Whiskeytown. The latter's subsequent rise was well-documented; the fall of the former, less so, as they seemed to slip into oblivion on the heels of two albums for Mammoth Records and a parade of lineup changes.

In the wake of the band's eventual and inevitable dissolution, dark days descended upon Chip Robinson. And there they remained, for the better part of a decade, until the power of music dragged him back into the light again. He had help, most notably from Eric Ambel, one of roots-rock's finest and most accomplished guitarists and producers. When Robinson finally left Raleigh behind a few years back, Ambel helped him land on his feet in New York City, eventually becoming his right-hand man in the studio when a batch of new songs began to coalesce.

There are echoes of the Backsliders' hard-charging guitar-twang glory on Mylow, but Robinson also digs deeper emotionally than he ever has before: On several tracks, his scarred-but-smarter singing scratches and crawls across hushed acoustic passages as he sinks into the heart of the matter. That thing about having to plunge head-first through the darkness in order to reach the light on the other side—well, sometimes it's true.

Relocated now to Austin, and re-ignited with a hard-hitting new backing crew (the Heavy Beat Outfit), Robinson seems to have rediscovered himself. Those old Backsliders songs still have their rightful place in his repertoire, but it's not just looking back; nowadays, there's also something to look forward to. —Peter Blackstock