Nashville’s Dallas Ugly are an indie rock band of truly trusted friends, a trio who have been singing each other’s songs for over a decade. Three distinctive voices: guitarist Owen Burton observes humanity at a wry remove, chuckling, multi-instrumentalist Libby Weitnauer lifts personal experience up into catchy tunes, and bassist Eli Broxham gracefully snakes through the low end on his more melancholy contributions. Together they’ve forged an ironclad, sibling-like bond, daring each other to ever increasing heights. Their listeners - lucky - get the overlap of their Venn diagram, the best of their crop, otherwise known as “See Me Now,” their sophomore album.

 

Though they first started playing each other’s songs back in their Chicago undergrad days, Dallas Ugly officially formed in 2020 when Owen, Libby, and Eli took a chance on relocating to Nashville. Owen had been living in Senegal serving in the Peace Corps, Libby had established herself as an in-demand musician in New York City, and Eli was playing on frequent bluegrass and country gigs in Illinois - reunited in the Music City, they got to work, shaping both Dallas Ugly and the local scene while playing with a slew of other Nashville artists. Their 2022 debut LP “Watch Me Learn” flirted with the boundaries of Americana - Libby’s vibrant fiddle playing, Eli’s more down-home basslines, a smattering of pedal steel. The record garnered listeners and acclaim. Under the Radar Magazine remarked the band “creates their own style full of shimmering magic, crafting a work of fractal guitars, pastoral melodies, and glowing harmonies." For the Rabbits noted a “depth and togetherness that’s a true calling card.”

 

But the trio leveled up in a serious way when they started collaborating with producer and engineer Justin Francis, a straight-up Grammy winner who works with new classic songwriters like Madison Cunningham and Sarah Jarosz. He’s coaxed out a broad sonic palette - layers of jangly electric guitars, an insistent drum sound, tasteful OP-1 synth twinkles - while still allowing plenty of room for Dallas Ugly’s impeccable melodies and crackling violin lines. The trio plays beautifully and energetically, they dig in and stop on a dime, their voices in close intervals soar over breaks and the occasional measure of 2/4. Libby puts it well: "As a band, I think we really just let it rip on this one - we tried to just make sounds and choices that we thought were cool without thinking too much about what was ‘right.’” It’s a delicious combo of studio polish and pure musical instinct.

 

The record is contemporary, crisp, and alive, full of first cracks at insightful songs captured through live takes - just the kind of thing you might hear leaping out of a Fresh Finds playlist. The lyrics, too, feel particularly of the current moment - the title track evokes a not-too-distant economic collapse and throughout the record the three songwriters grapple for sure footing in an unstable world. “See Me Now” feels like a part of the current band-with-guitars renaissance, in alignment with touring acts like Big Thief, MJ Lenderman, or songwriter Allegra Krieger. They’d be right at home on the bill at one of Wilco’s summer festivals or opening for Lucinda Williams, heroes that bridge tradition and now. And it’s rare these days to hear a band so effectively channel the thoughtful toe-tapper anthems that used to be all over late 90s radio, the kind of well-crafted, open-hearted music to which you can’t help but sing along. With their new producer in the mix, “See Me Now” shows brilliant shades of “Wide Open Spaces,” the romantic swoon of Sixpence None the Richer and the Cranberries, the chorused guitars of an REM track, the bop-along charm of a Gin Blossoms heater. And yes, Sheryl Crow is also a solid point of listening reference, which is no surprise - she counts Justin Francis among her studio collaborators.

 

The record opens with a Southern-Rock-adjacent bopper whose insistent choruses explode. And then the album takes off running, skipping through vocalists, protagonists, and genres, all bolstered with tremendously melodic bass playing. “Best Behaviour” rolls the windows down while the band gleefully saws away while “Doing Good” transforms the apprehensions of the world falling apart into a gratitude anthem strummed on a rubber bridge guitar. “Circumstances” sprints at a panting pace, shimmering, followed by “Out of Sight,” a charming, hangdog vocal delivered by Eli. Other highlights: the sticky sweet, rueful yearning of “Sugar Crash,” the poignant, sad joke shuffles courtesy of Owen on tracks eight and nine. Closer “Thin Skin” - drumless and extra tender after nine groovers - features achingly lovely vocals from Libby that echo out in plate reverb over nylon string chords. Stripped away of the rest of the band, the song underlines just how interconnected and locked-in the trio is on the rest of the album. A song about falling down, standing up, then appreciating the growth and humility afforded to you after you make contact with the ground. These themes are heard elsewhere throughout the record’s other songs - shouting out the hardships that formed you, thanking the heavens for vulnerability and the good love of friends that set you on your path forward. I’m back on my feet, they seem to sing, can you see me now?