There’s a certain kind of band that doesn’t just make records, they live them. Southall have spent the last decade earning that distinction the hard way: on the road, in dive bars, on festival stages and through a catalogue that has steadily blurred the lines between country, rock, soul and Americana. With ‘Kinfolk,' their fifth full-length album, they don’t just refine that identity, they fully realise it.
Produced by Wes Sharon, ‘Kinfolk' feels like the culmination of everything the band has been building toward since ‘Six String Sorrow.' It’s rooted in old-school country storytelling but driven by a roaring, unapologetic rock ‘n’ roll engine. The result is an album that feels both intimate and expansive, like a late-night confession shouted across an arena.
From the first note, ‘Kinfolk' makes its intentions clear. ‘Burning Bridges' explodes out of the gate with aggressive, almost punk-leaning guitars and a raw, unfiltered vocal from Read Southall. There’s an indie-tinged looseness to the production that gives the track an edge—like it could fall apart at any moment, but never does. “When you look up and you're all alone, do you wish you had never left home?” he asks, delivering a line that cuts straight to the album’s emotional core: loss, legacy and the passing of time. It’s chaotic and perfect opening statement.
That intensity rolls seamlessly into ‘Southwestern Son,' where the band leans fully into their southern rock DNA. Think Lynyrd Skynyrd swagger filtered through The Rolling Stones grit and the barroom bounce of the Georgia Satellites. Built on a dirty riff and driving piano, it’s an anthem of identity and perseverance. “When in doubt hold out / Keep your head up high and on the hunt / Keep on shining Southwestern Son,” Southall urges, turning personal history into something communal. By the time the gospel-style backing vocals kick in, it’s clear this is a song built for live shows and destined to be a highlight.
‘House Money' keeps the pedal down, swapping piano for organ and leaning into a more commercial, radio-ready sound reminiscent of A Thousand Horses. Lyrically, it’s about living in the moment, “Can’t take it with us when we go,” Southall sings against a vivid casino backdrop populated by risk-takers and dreamers. It’s swaggering, accessible, and undeniably fun without losing the band’s edge.
Then comes the first major shift. ‘Worse Things' slows things down and opens up emotionally. “When my day gives way to dusk… when my heart stops pumping blood and dust returns to dust,” Southall sings, confronting mortality with a calm, almost philosophical acceptance. “The ending is a part of every story, it’s just a simple fact of life” becomes the thesis. Sonically, it sits somewhere between Tom Petty, Bob Seger and John Mellencamp, before erupting into a soaring guitar solo that wouldn’t feel out of place on a classic Aerosmith or Bon Jovi record. It’s a six-minute epic that balances introspection with arena-sized ambition.
‘Freight Train' carries that reflective thread forward, wrapping it in a hypnotic, mid-tempo groove. A meditation on loss and the unstoppable passage of time, it finds Southall admitting, “Days without you pass slow,” before landing on the stark truth: “Some things we’ve lost just can’t be found.” The freight train metaphor is simple but effective—time moves forward whether you’re ready or not.
The title track, ‘Kinfolk,' shifts the mood again. Built on a swampy groove and honky-tonk piano flourishes, it’s a love letter to home, heritage and belonging. There’s a lived-in warmth here as Southall sings about southern towns, shade-soaked afternoons and the pull of returning to your roots. It’s less about nostalgia and more about grounding, knowing where you come from and why it matters. ‘Second Hand' continues the album’s fixation on time, opening with the line, “Times are tough, times are changing, time itself is a luxury.” Musically, it leans back into that Petty/Seger lane, building toward a sweeping, arena-ready climax complete with massive backing vocals and a soaring guitar solo. It’s easy to imagine this one echoing around venues like Red Rocks, lighters and phone lights held high. A subtle time change at the end adds an unexpected twist, keeping the listener locked in too.
‘Pocketknife and Pliers' strips everything back to its bare essentials. Acoustic and almost live-sounding, it feels like a campfire song shared between friends. The band’s harmonies add to that communal atmosphere, reinforcing the album’s central theme: family, legacy and what we carry forward. It’s simple, but deeply effective.
Closing track ‘Okie Pokin’ Out' brings the record full circle with a raucous, red-dirt rocker that proudly celebrates the band’s Oklahoma roots. With a riff straight out of the Georgia Satellites playbook, it’s loose and full of personality. “There’s one in every crazy crowd… you’ve either got it or you don’t, nobody’s gonna keep us down,” Southall declares, capturing both the band’s defiant spirit and the culture they come from. It’s the kind of song built for barrooms and late-night singalongs.
‘Kinfolk' is everything Southall set out to make: a road trip record, a family album, a statement of identity. It blends southern rock grit with country soul and flashes of 80s hard rock, creating something that feels both timeless and immediate. Thematically, it wrestles with time, loss, love and legacy—but never forgets to have a good time along the way. This is a band that has spent ten years sharpening its sound, and here, it all clicks. The sequencing is tight, the performances are locked in and the emotional throughline is clear from start to finish. It plays like a classic record from the ‘70s or ‘80s—something meant to be experienced front to back, not picked apart track by track. Southall haven’t just made another good album—they’ve made their defining one.
