There aren’t many albums that actually benefit from a triple-CD retrospective comprising the original album, plus a full disc of demos, plus a full disc of live renditions. There aren’t many albums that can stand up to that level of scrutiny—and repetition—without emerging in some way diminished.

There aren’t many—but Jason Isbell’s Southeastern is one of them.

Isbell’s landmark 2013 solo album has always been unique in part because it captures so vividly such a distinct moment in time—the moment when Isbell stopped what he was doing, looked back at the path he’d been on for more than a decade, and changed his life. Quit the booze, quit the drugs, and committed to a strong woman (singer-songwriter-fiddler Amanda Shires) who challenged him to be the best version of himself. In the throes of this transformation, he sat down and wrote the most remarkable set of songs of his career (so far).

The original album is long since burned into my mind to the point where hearing the remastered version found on disc one of this set was more a reunion with old friends than a revelation of any kind. Suffice it say, the songs still sound great and my opinion of the album hasn’t changed.

The second and third discs—consisting of an almost-complete set of demos and a 10-years-later live-in-concert replay of the entire album, respectively—are fascinating as much for what isn’t there as for what is.

Southeastern was originally intended to be a pure solo album, just Isbell and his acoustic guitar, but in time he and producer Dave Cobb recognized that a number of these songs demanded fuller arrangements in order to achieve their potential impact. Those decisions and what they wrought is revealed clearly in the differences between the demos and the finished product.

The demo of the album’s signature kickoff song “Cover Me Up” is as close to final as any of the demos found here, yet still reveals subtle differences in the readings of certain lines. And the live version, as different as it is with the 400 Unit—particularly guitarist Sadler Vaden and drummer Chad Gamble—working subtly but powerfully in the background, feels both less distilled and direct than the original and absolutely right for the live setting, where Isbell is communicating with thousands of people through a giant PA rather than one listener through earbuds.

“Stockholm” sounds great acoustic, but it’s also easy to appreciate why it became an electric song on the album—that choice explodes the impact of the song, while serving as a concrete illustration of its story, about a touring musician who must travel for his work but misses his home. The similarly themed “Traveling Alone” is that much lonelier with just Isbell on the demo—where he sounds genuinely weary—but is more effective when rendered with the band.

The “Elephant” demo is honestly hard to distinguish from the finished product—it’s a fully realized performance—until you detect subtle changes to the lyric (“I’d sing her Harry Nilsson songs / And she'd get high and sing along” as opposed to the final, where he sings her “classic country songs”). The live rendition is like a trip to church, both soulful and reverent.

“Flying Over Water” is the same story as “Stockholm”—it’s cool hearing the demo version, but you know why he made it an electric song; it begs for that widescreen scope and muscle. By the same token, “Different Days” was a natural to stay as an acoustic number, as well as a fine illustration of how detailed and thought-out the man’s demos were; every little strum, intonation and inflection is nearly identical to the finished product.

There are several songs here that are so good they’d be standouts on another album, but function more like filler here: the dark, Faulkneresque story-song “Live Oak”; the playful travelogue “New South Wales”; the domestic noir “Yvette.” All excellent songs, interspersed with genuinely great ones.

“Songs That She Sung In The Shower” might be the most underappreciated track on Southeastern, an absolutely devastating breakup song, capturing every milligram of the hurt, the longing, the unrealized dreams. On the demo in particular, it’s also a showcase for Isbell’s acoustic playing; everybody wants to talk about his songs and lyrics, and rightfully so, but he’s also an ace guitar player.

As for those lyrics, “The songs that she sung in the shower / Are stuck in my mind / like yesterday’s wine” is among the best lines on an album full of memorable ones: the ache of lost love compared to a hangover. Later, mellifluous closer “Relatively Easy” delivers real bite as Isbell sings of someone: “Runnin’ on a church kick / Seems like just another kind of dopesick / Better off to teach a dog a card trick.” Ouch.

The live disc included in this set is considerably longer than the other two because it includes a number of great stories Isbell tells the audience between and about the songs. One favorite involves getting the inspiration for “Traveling Alone” while sitting in an airport terminal surrounded by other passengers. In the course of the same story he cracks up the crowd by copping to the way the song repeats key lines over and over, before finishing with a hilarious anecdote about John Prine.  

Late in the live disc, “Super 8” predictably gets the crowd pumping with its honky-tonk stomp and witty punchlines. It’s the one song here that doesn’t show up among the demos, making you wonder if he might have written it in the studio as they recorded the album.

The one odd thing about this package—and the live disc specifically—is what’s missing. Isbell and band play a hundred shows or more a year, and typically Shires sits in for around half of them, adding considerable dimension and emotional impact to these songs with her fiddle and harmony vocals. Yet for this album Isbell chose to record a show when Shires wasn’t present. It’s not unimaginable—Shires never has been a member of The 400 Unit, and only played on one track (“Traveling Alone”) on the original studio album—but her presence is definitely missed.

As for Mr. Isbell, after listening to the man for three hours straight, it’s necessary to note that he just has one of those voices. It’s not classically beautiful, and certainly not perfect, but the rough edges it carries lend it a distinctive character, and the man employing it knows just how to get the most out of his instrument.

A decade later, Southeastern remains the pinnacle of a career that’s grown into an entire mountain range. It’s a truly remarkable piece of work, rendered in three dimensions here in a way that only magnifies its beauty, truth, and power.

Rating: A

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