Review of Drew Nelson – The Other Side

Canadian singer-songwriter Drew Nelson has long worked just outside the edge of the mainstream spotlight—visible enough for those who care to look, yet oddly under-recognized given both his longevity and the caliber of his craft. His 2014 release, The Other Side, makes a highly persuasive argument that such neglect is woefully undeserved. This is, quite obviously, not the work of any journeyman musician dabbling in familiar folk-country-blues tropes; this is the product of a writer intent on wringing truth out of every chord, every lyric, every breath. Where others working in the genre might often seem to lean on formula, Nelson leans on honesty—and that changes the game.

From the opening notes of the album’s first track “Seven Days,” the listener is made quite aware: this isn’t wallpaper music made for background listening. It requires your attention—even demands it. Guitars slide and twang with restless energy. Nelson’s voice enters—gravelly, weathered, but never strained—and it doesn’t so much tell the story as it inhabits it. He sings as though the lyrics were carved into him, steady, solid and unadorned—carrying conviction instead of theatrics; solidity instead of pretension.

The album’s center reveals its emotional foundation. “Make It Right,” with its quietly urgent rhythm, pushes forward like someone pacing the floor—restless yet determined. It’s a song about reconciliation, about wounds that burn and throb but might—just might—not yet be beyond healing. Then comes the track “Stick Around,” tender and conversational, less a performance than a plea quietly whispered across a kitchen table. “Drifting Away” slows the air itself. It’s dark; haunting. It lingers in melancholy, letting the ache stretch across each and every measure. Heard separately, these tracks stand tall. Heard together, they form a conversation—a conversation about persistence, about the difficult grace of staying put when everything in you wants to leave.

Nelson’s gift here lies in balancing grit and grace—often within the same breath. Take “Please Come Home”—its raw lyricism could crumble under heavy-handed production, but Producer Steve Marriner’s touch keeps it grounded and honest. Marriner doesn’t chase shine and sparkle; he opts for warmth—a sound with the appearance of almost being carved in mahogany. Guitars hum with the resonances of both wood-and-steel, organ lines drift in like foggy, half-remembered dreams, and Nelson’s voice sits in the mix exactly where it should: front, center, unvarnished but necessary and sturdy. The result feels intimate, like music played in a living room somewhere in the old part of town, with the lights turned down low. Yet, it remains intense and expansive enough to carry far across city blocks.

If there’s any criticism to be made here, I suppose it might be that The Other Side may occasionally appear to lean a little too heavily on mid-tempo pacing. A few songs wander over what will sound to regular listeners of the genre as familiar rhythmic ground and well walked paths, their edges each blurring somewhat between them. And yet, even here, Nelson’s pen and performance ultimately saves him. His lyrics resist the easy rhyme and they nimbly sidestep worn-out clichés. They land instead on truths that appear plain-spoken—ordinary, but nonetheless engaging and capable—with a promise of cutting just a little deeper on a second or third listen.

The album closes out with its title-track, “The Other Side,” a track that doesn’t shout its importance but whispers it with a quiet assurance and serious tone. It feels very much like both a benediction and a farewell, not dramatic, not flashy, but resonant and contemplative—the kind of ending that lingers for awhile after the final note has dissolved into silence.

In the end, The Other Side is a triumph not of spectacle, polish or opulence but of well worked craft and confident sophistication. It rewards a listener’s patience. It asks you to sit with it, to reflect and breathe. And in so doing it affirms Drew Nelson as an artist worthy of far more attention than he has thus far received. This is music that doesn’t beg for your ear; it earns it. Steadily. Surely. With integrity. It will leave you with the sense that it had been owed the listen you’ve just given it.