On Mule, a remarkably frank album that cascades between heartbreak, pain, beauty, and, ultimately, optimism, out this week via Warner Records, Orville Peck opens a chapter of his life that many would likely choose to keep firmly closed. Across more than a dozen songs, he lays bare in deeply personal detail his struggle with addiction and his fight to get sober and rebuild his life. The result is an affecting album brimming with emotion and delivered with remarkable clarity over a beautiful, occasionally raucous, pop-country/Americana soundtrack.
After the beautiful harmonized a cappella “Prologue (Eulogy of a Man Turned Mule)” featuring an amazing trio of voices made up of Emmylou Harris, Noah Cyrus, and Allison Russell, Peck kicks off the record with “Big Ol’ House.” Because the album is laid out chronologically, it details Peck coming back to his newly bought home after a breakup with his partner and spiraling into casual sex and a cycle of booze and drugs. The lament is delivered over loud drums and equally brash guitars before simmering into an almost whispered hymn. The album takes a darker turn on “Already Gone,” where backing singers harmonize and mesh perfectly with Peck’s booming baritone as the song picks up momentum.
The slow-tempo “Rehab Blues,” delivered over a lazy shuffle, beautifully showcases Peck’s range. His deep delivery of a line like “I hate it here and I want to die” is near-heartbreaking. Belying the lyrics about struggling to dry out in the facility, the song then devolves into an almost raucous party atmosphere, with a cacophony of loud voices murmuring over horns. Peck takes what could be a run-of-the-mill, drying-out-in-rehab song (and there have been plenty) and manages to completely reinvent the tropes thanks to inspired arrangements and some deeply personal lyrics.
Elsewhere, the almost anthemic, rousing “Ring the Bell,” about fooling himself that he is cured after leaving rehab, is impressively self-aware while being remarkably catchy. The second-to-last track on the album, “War of the Worlds,” is a slower, frank look at separating Daniel Pitout from his alias, Orville Peck. The record closes on the title track, another mellower, sobering moment (sorry) about self-discovery and redemption. It’s a beautiful conclusion to an album brimming with heartache, hope, and a slew of emotions, ending with the same trio of voices from the Prelude and perfectly bookending his most confessional record yet.
While Peck has only released three albums before now, his knack for writing and singing deeply melodramatic goth country that occasionally swerves into addictive pop has been well established. And nowhere is that clearer than on Mule. What Meat Loaf and Freddie Mercury did for rock in the ’70s and ’80s, Peck does for country music, delivering big emotions, bigger arrangements and absolutely no fear of excess.
Yet Mule may be his most affecting record precisely because, underneath all that grandeur, there’s nowhere left for Peck to hide. The mask may remain, but everything behind it is laid bare.
