Ann Arbor, Michigan resident Ed Dupas has the North American blood running through his veins. Born in Texas but spending much of his childhood in Winnipeg, Canada with family, he returned to the States during his teenage years. Settling in Detroit for a number of years, he spent a while performing acoustic cover songs in bars, but his friends encouraged him to write more and perform his own material. Soon open mics turned to opening for the likes of Chris Knight, Josh Rose, Michael Crittenden, and Troll For Trout, and in 2015 Ed recorded his debut album ‘A Good American Life’ (due August 28). It’s fair to assume from his roots, and from the title of his record, that Ed is a patriot. His music, too, is rooted in Heartland country rock, Americana and the simple stories of American people, while his influences range from Steve Earle to Neil Young, Bob Dylan to Townes Van Zandt, and Richard Shindell to Ryan Adams. Ed Dupas is arguably the archetypal poster boy for the ordinary, blue collar American.
But far from tapping into the blue collar drinking and party songs often recorded by his peers further into the country sphere, Ed’s songs are thoughtful, balanced depictions of all aspects of life. On ‘Remember My Love’, for example, he reminds a lover who has left that she will miss the love he gave her, and that while he will “find a way to forget you”, she will “think we’re done, but you’ll remember my love in the long run.” Elsewhere, more relationship tales unravel before us, from ‘Home In Time’, to ‘Until The Blue Comes Round’, and ‘With Love You Never Know’, swinging from loneliness to the warmth of human contact, to the very nature of love itself. Grounded in simple acoustic guitar strumming and picking, Ed’s lyrics are on stark display, his rough but heartfelt vocals guiding us through moments of despair, passion and mumbling regret. ‘You Don’t Get To Explain’ is one of the latter tracks, admitting grave mistakes in hurting a loved one repeatedly while follow-up ‘Too Late Now’ takes the same situation from the opposite perspective. “You walked away just like each one before, yeah you broke my heart just in case you’re keeping score.” He sings woefully. “You’re gone from me and I can’t forget your name.”
But Ed has a lot more to say as the voice of the Silent Majority than emotional explorations of love and loss. Although a proud American, he has more than his fair share of criticisms for the current way of life, and I’m sure he’s not alone. The title track (and opening number) begins with the line, “I wake up in the morning, the alarm clock tells me when, pour a cup of coffee and hit the road again. Find the nearest freeway, yeah I got places to be, sounds like a good American life to me.” However, this celebration of ordinary routine is marred by subtle changes in tone throughout. “Time to make some money, time to pay some bills,” he asserts when talking about his job. “Cause they’re charging me for things that I used to get for free, sounds like a good American life to me.” Soon the hook becomes semi-sarcastic, surrounded by phrases like, “Just trying to catch my breath so I can tell myself I’m free,” and “They’ve got families and loved ones, the kids they ain’t never seen,” when referencing soldiers serving their country.
However, this narrative continues on ‘Flag’. Musing on the American flag and US patriotism as he sets various scenes where the flag is waving high, lines like “The flag waves high when the tax man comes, he says you gotta pay just to be someone, yeah it’ll cost you plenty if you wanna stay,” really send a message that Ed is unhappy with the way things have become in his home country. Again the hook line (“red white and blue, till your dying day”) becomes steeped in sarcasm, as he details problems with austerity, enforced authority, and wars that have caused the deaths of countless soldiers. Still, he notes, we continue to salute the flag and celebrate our country, despite the way in which it’s screwing us over.
‘This Old Town’, meanwhile, follows the narrative of a town that has become mostly abandoned and fallen into disrepair, another casualty of shifting American economy and lifestyle. “There ain’t nothing left but a dream here in this old town,” he sings sadly, adding another layer and angle to proceedings when he warns people of the control the government and connected forces have over the population on ‘Train’. “We’re beggars of our own demise.”
Still, none of these tracks come off preachy, and that’s really the magic of Ed’s platform here. He doesn’t get angry or wave his metaphorical guns around, he just states calmly and eloquently the issues arising in society, snuggled between more personal stories of emotional strife. All in all, ‘A Good American Life’ is an album designed to make you think, to make you happy, to make you sad, and fill your heart. Simple, minimalistic, but with some flights of instrumental fancy to push more of a country rock sound, Ed has crafted a record that his heroes would be proud of. A true American man with a nuanced American record. Can’t ask for more than that.
