Soldiers Get Strange

The tempo is low and unhurried, almost hesitant, which is exactly right for a song about the specific disorientation of veterans returning from combat. Isbell writes about this subject without the bombast of patriotic tribute or the self-congratulation of protest — instead there's a quietness here that feels diagnostic, clinical almost, like he's trying to describe a condition to someone who has never experienced it. The guitar work is restrained and textural, providing atmosphere more than melody, leaving space for the voice to do its work. And the voice here is doing something particular: it's observational rather than confessional, watching these men from a slight remove, noting the way they've been altered in ways that don't show on the surface but reveal themselves in small, strange behaviors. The song belongs to the strand of Isbell's writing that's primarily concerned with witness — documenting people and experiences that deserve more honest attention than they typically receive. It fits the context of post-Iraq and post-Afghanistan America, but it doesn't timestamp itself explicitly, which gives it a durability. You listen to this when you know someone who came back changed and you haven't been able to find the right language for what you're watching happen to them.