Album Review: Rifles & Rosary Beads by Mary Gauthier
Mary Gauthier’s 2018 album Rifles & Rosary Beads is the kind of record that sneaks up on you. It doesn’t shout for attention, but once it sinks its hooks in, it doesn’t let go. A blend of folk rock and raw storytelling, this album feels like sitting around a campfire with someone who’s got a lot to say—and every word matters. Released across Italy, the US, and the UK via labels like Appaloosa and Proper Records, it’s not just music; it’s a conversation. And trust me, you’ll want to listen.
The album was born out of Gauthier’s SongwritingWith:Soldiers project, where she co-wrote songs with veterans and their families. That authenticity shines through in every track. You can hear the weight of real stories, real pain, and real hope in her voice. Backed by talents like Beth Nielsen Chapman on vocals, Neilson Hubbard on drums (and as producer), and Michele Gazich adding haunting violin lines, the sound is both intimate and expansive.
Let’s talk tracks. First up, “Bullet Holes In The Sky.” This one hits hard because it’s told from the perspective of a veteran watching fireworks on the Fourth of July—a moment most people celebrate, but which triggers PTSD for so many who’ve served. The lyrics are gut-punch direct: “They’re lighting up the sky / But all I see is war.” Gauthier’s delivery is steady, almost conversational, but there’s an ache underneath that stays with you long after the song ends. It’s not flashy or overproduced, just honest—like hearing a secret whispered straight into your ear.
Then there’s “The War After The War,” a heartbreaker if I’ve ever heard one. It zooms in on the families left behind when soldiers return home changed—or don’t return at all. With Danny Mitchell’s horns swelling in the background and Gauthier’s harmonica wailing like a ghost, it’s impossible not to feel something. What sticks with me isn’t just the melody but the way it captures how war doesn’t end when the fighting stops—it lingers, shaping lives forever.
One thing I love about this album? It doesn’t try too hard. There’s no glossy polish here, no attempt to sugarcoat the heavy stuff. Instead, it leans into imperfections—the cracks in voices, the unevenness of emotions—and turns them into strengths. Even little details, like Howard Rains’ painting for the cover art or Joshua Britt’s design work, add layers without overshadowing the music itself.
By the time you get to “Brothers” at the end, you might find yourself wondering why more albums don’t tackle these kinds of themes. Not everything has to be upbeat or radio-friendly, right? Sometimes, we need records like Rifles & Rosary Beads—albums that remind us what music is capable of when it tells the truth.
Here’s the kicker: listening to this album made me realize how rarely we truly listen—to each other, to stories outside our own lives, even to ourselves. So maybe next time you’re scrolling Spotify for something new, skip the shiny pop playlists and give this one a spin. Who knows? You might just walk away feeling a little less alone in the world. Or, ya know, at least humming along to some killer mandolin riffs.
