Album Review: If We Can't Trust The Doctors by Blanche (2005)
Alright, let’s get into this mess of an album that somehow nails it anyway. Blanche’s If We Can’t Trust The Doctors is like a rusty old truck with a busted tailpipe—it shouldn’t work, but damn if it doesn’t haul ass when you hit the gas. This thing straddles so many genres—Alt-Country, Folk Rock, Americana, Indie Rock—you name it, they’ve crammed it in there. And yeah, maybe that sounds like chaos on paper, but trust me, it works.
First off, let’s talk about “Someday.” Holy crap, this track hits hard right outta the gate. It’s got Tracee Mae Miller’s vocals slicing through like a knife while Dan John Miller lays down some serious fiddle magic. You know those songs where you’re just kinda vibing and then BAM—it punches you in the gut? That’s “Someday.” The lyrics feel raw, almost unfinished, like somebody ripped them straight outta a diary. Maybe that’s why it sticks with ya. Plus, the way the banjo pops up here and there? Genius. Feels like someone sneaking whiskey sips at church.
Then there’s “Who’s To Say,” which gets repeated more times than I care to count across the album (seriously, what’s up with all the versions?), but the original cut slaps. It’s one part folk ballad, two parts existential crisis, and all heartbreak. David Feeny’s production gives it this warm, fuzzy vibe, even though the subject matter is anything but cozy. Warren Defever throws his weight around too, layering drums and steel guitar in ways that make your ears perk up. By the time Lisa ‘Jaybird’ Jannon kicks in on percussion, it’s clear this ain’t no sleepy campfire singalong—it’s a full-blown emotional beatdown.
What really sells this record, though, is how lived-in everything feels. From Patch Boyle’s autoharp twang to Feeny pulling double duty on piano and clarinet, every note breathes authenticity. Even the mastering job by Fred Kevorkian has this gritty edge, like it was recorded live in somebody’s barn instead of a studio. And props to Jun Pino for the photography; the cover art looks like something you’d find buried under a pile of thrift store records—a hidden gem waiting to be discovered.
But let’s not sugarcoat it—this album ain’t perfect. Some tracks drag their feet (cough “Wayfaring Stranger” cough), and having three different mixes of the same song can feel overkill. Still, when it clicks, it REALLY clicks. There’s a scrappy charm to If We Can’t Trust The Doctors, like these guys didn’t give a damn about trends or radio play—they just wanted to tell their story.
So yeah, it’s messy, flawed, and occasionally brilliant. Kinda like life itself. Funny enough, as much as this album leans into nostalgia, listening to it now feels... weirdly futuristic. Like, imagine blasting this from a jukebox on Mars or something. Wouldn’t shock me one bit.
Final verdict? If you dig music that fights back, grab this sucker pronto. Just don’t blame me when it haunts your dreams.
Rating: 8/10
