If you asked him, he’d admit it: Josh Rouse has a thing for AM Gold and those easy-listening sounds of the 1970s. Just don’t hold that against the singer-songwriter or fear that he's another B.J. Thomas, Nilsson, or Bread. Just the same, there is something about the Tennessee native’s smooth sense of style and those jazzy grooves in his comfortable alt-folk delivery that hearkens back to that time period.
Rouse's sound is trapped somewhere in time and eternal all at once. He knows it. Anyone bold enough to put out a concept album called 1972 tells you where they're coming from up front. He’s about the only sensitive guy out there these days who can give a softy like John Mayer a run for his money. Maybe that’s why Mayer brought him out on tour with him recently.
A critic's darling for many years; Rouse’s last effort Nashville sparkles and fades cheerfully, even as it sums up another marriage (his own) deconstructed by that old demon alcohol. If Nashville remembers his world-weary melancholy of the time, it’s certainly swept away in a wash of mellow melodies, handsome falsettos and disarmingly obscure lyrics.
But onward and upward, as they say. Subtitulo (or “subtitle,” in Spanish) continues the enchanting Rouse discography with an even brighter storytelling outlook on life. His first release since he moved to Spain to live with his girlfriend, Subtitulo flaunts its indigenous persuasions and fuses Spanish castle magic with Rouse's own gorgeous and unmistakable acoustic guitar sound.
Completely listenable and thoroughly enjoyable, Subtitulo’s warmth, contentment and drowsy introspection stands out on tracks like “Quiet Town” (a paean to Rouse's new home), the glimmering “Summertime,” “Givin’ It Up” and the plaintive “Jersey Clowns.” And what album of this caliber would be complete without “His Majesty Rides,” a transient classic about touring and the romantic riddles of living life out of a suitcase?
After hearing Subtitulo, who could blame him if Rouse never came back to the States?
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