MORGAN WALLEN – I’M THE PROBLEM: REVIEW
- Bernard Zuel
- 6 hours ago
- 4 min read
MORGAN WALLEN
I’m The Problem (Big Loud/Universal)
THAT MORGAN WALLEN, THE BIGGEST STAR in country music, if not music altogether, is by all the evidence a dick – probably racist, almost certainly sexist, and definitely boorish – should not preclude a reasoned look at his music. After all Keith Urban is a lovely bloke, genuinely, and it’s still possible to listen to his music and say that’s just contrived rubbish with the soul of a McDonald’s giveaway toy.
And if you are a caring type, we don’t need to worry about our grumbling affecting Wallen’s sales which show the kind of commitment from fans suggesting that like his spirit animal, DJ Trump, attaching yourself to Wallen after each and every criticism of him or his actions is an act of defiance and solidarity in the face of those smart arses who think they’re superior because they’re not racist rednecks.
Which funnily enough Wallen tips a hat to as often as he can on this album, opening I Ain’t Coming Back, helped by old mucker Post Malone, with “I’m a redneck cause I drink beer and I dip Skoal” (the chewin’ tobacca returns in Skoal, Chevy And Browning, which is a title Urban must be kicking himself he hadn’t already commissioned), and in Come Back As A Redneck, wishing for one of those nasty city folk who look down on him that “when you die I hope you come back as a redneck/I hope it sticks on you like a hell-hot sun tattoo … maybe then you’ll understand”.
There’s plenty more where that came from, and that’s without even getting to the Taylor Swift-alike title track, which opens the album. Though if you think that title may presage a confessional of faults, a mea culpa for deeds past and present … hahahahahahahaha. Basically it’s a song which says to a recalcitrant lover, who may be standing in for all of his critics, hey, you knew what you were getting with me (“I’m just a-go around town with some gasoline/Just tryin’ to bum a flame”) and you fell for me, so why complain now (“If I’m so awful then why’d you stick around this long?), so yeah, maybe it’s you not me (“And it got me thinkin’, if I’m the problem well you might be the reason”).
In short, he's a rebel and he’ll never ever be any good, you might say. Well, you don’t need to because he will say it, signing off the record advising that “I’m a coyote in a field of wolves/Oh I’m a red-letter rebel, but some become the devil when the moon is full”.
Signing off at track 37 incidentally. No, that’s not a misprint: after 30 and 36 track records before this, there are 37 tracks (written by an even larger number of writers) on this album, finishing just short of two hours. More than you’d have got on a single CD back in the old days. Probably a triple album in the very old days. More on that later, but let’s get into the weeds here.
Having dabbled with trap beats etc – to be fair, more than dabbled, but it was still a diversion rather than some merged future – Wallen returns to first … hmm, I hesitate to use principals in the same sentence as Wallen, so let’s say first thoughts. This is a regulation modern country album, short on beer-stompers but heavy on the ballads and mid-tempo tracks, like the sunset cruising I Got Better and hymnal Smile. It is arranged with familiarity not adventure front of mind, R&B influences dusting things, like the keyboards drenching TN, the light boyband-does-soul sway of Kiss Her In Front Of You and Just In Case, and the programmed beats in Where’d That Girl Go, but never leaving country/pop’s main street where the likes of If You Were Mine (a power ballad hiding inside a white suit), and the duet with Tate McRae, What I Want, comfortably hold the centre of the road.
Its one reminder of recent outre outings is a twisty beats, 44 second interlude called, oh, Interlude, but much more common is Revelation, a soft-focus ballad with Wallen pitching up a bit, touching things up with some world-weariness and setting everything in a dream-like atmosphere of faded, echoey drums and single line guitar, or Falling Apart, which opens that atmosphere out to accommodate a post-dream morning beer.
Whatever you may think of the man, the sleek, styled and always easy to sup on songs here leave little room to question why he is so central to his label’s marketing schedule for 2025. There are too many songs, and too many sounding similar in tone, to make this a successful album if you measure things by whether you can play this from front to back and stay interested. But that’s not how many – most? – of the people who will pay for this, or pay to see him play, will ingest I’m The Problem.
Open up a streamer and wherever you land across the 37 tracks you will find a smooth entry point whether you say you like country and only country or if you’re someone who gets a shock when you realise the pop act you’ve been humming for ages wears a hat and boots. More often than not the song you land on will come with some attitude that might tickle your “fuck woke” little heart too, though you can glide right past it if you’re of a mind to. And whatever song it is it will always have a hook or three stuck out in front of you so not even thick reviewers can miss it.
Yes, it’s him, he’s the problem. And to borrow from another Swift wisdom, haters gonna hate and while Morgan Wallen’s not gonna shake it off (it does fuel him after all) he is gonna have the last laugh. The man’s probably still a dick though.
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