Album Review: With You In Mind by Bill Conlon
Alright, let’s talk about Bill Conlon’s With You In Mind. Released way back in 1989 on Etude Records, this UK gem falls into the Folk, World, and Country genre. It’s one of those albums that sneaks up on you—kinda like finding an old photograph and realizing how much it means to you years later.
Now, I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect much when I first hit play. But there are two tracks here that stuck with me, and they’re worth shouting out. First up is “Stems Of Bakersfield.” (Yeah, yeah, I know it’s actually “Streets,” but my brain always trips over the title.) This song just feels lived-in, you know? The lyrics paint pictures of dusty roads and forgotten dreams, and Bill’s voice carries this quiet ache that makes you wanna sit down with a cuppa tea and think about life for a bit. It’s not flashy or overproduced—it doesn’t need to be. That simplicity hits different.
Then there’s “Let’s Start Forever.” Man, this track feels like a warm hug after a long day. There’s something hopeful yet bittersweet about it, like saying goodbye to someone but knowing deep down you’ll meet again someday. The melody lingers, and the chorus has this gentle pull that keeps looping in your head without ever getting annoying. It’s the kind of song that could soundtrack a slow dance at a wedding no one will admit they cried at.
The rest of the album holds its own too. Tracks like “Cowboys Don’t Get Lucky” bring that playful country twang, while “She’s Holding Her Own Now” offers a slice of wisdom wrapped in acoustic guitar. Even though some songs feel more memorable than others, the whole thing flows nicely, like a good chat with an old mate.
What strikes me most about With You In Mind is how unpretentious it feels. No big studio tricks or shiny pop hooks—just solid storytelling and heartfelt delivery. And honestly, isn’t that what folk music’s all about?
Here’s the kicker though: Listening to this album made me realize how rare it is these days to find music that lets itself breathe. Most stuff now feels rushed, like we’re all trying to cram as many beats or words into three minutes as possible. Maybe we should take a page from Bill Conlon’s book and slow down a little. Or maybe I’m just rambling because I miss vinyl records. Either way, give this one a spin if you can find it—you might just fall in love with it like I did.
Oh, and random thought: Why do chairs keep showing up in country songs? Seriously, between this album and George Strait’s “The Chair,” I’m starting to think furniture has a secret fanbase in Nashville.
