Review: Paul Thorn Turns New Album 'Never Too Late to Call' Into a Family Affair

I was fortunate to interview Paul Thorn a few years ago and, when I asked him who his biggest musical influence was, he surprised me by saying Dean Martin. While it might seem like a bluesy Americana artist might name check John Prine or BB King, if you listen to any of Thorn's albums, Dean Martin starts to make perfect sense. While he might not be a crooner, Thorn emulates Martin's ability to make you laugh one minute and tug at your heart strings with a tender ballad the next. On his new album, Never Too Late to Call, Thorn continues to prove himself the master of both forms.

Family has always been another lynchpin of Thorn's songwriting. His minister father and Southern homemaker mother have been the subjects of many of Thorn's songs. On Never Too Late to Call, he expands that family influence, writing and singing songs with both his wife and daughter and honoring his late sister on the album's title track. But don't fear any nepotism in this family. The family songs comprise the album's best songs.

The undisputed highlight of Never Too Late to Call is “Holy Hotty Toddy.” Inspired by watching his daughter's band and the raucous and inclusive crowd in attendance, Thorn and longtime collaborator Billy Maddox wrote a driving blues rocker about meeting everybody where they are and finding the good in each. “I meet a lot of real cool people wherever I go,” Thorn barks in his trademark Tupelo drawl, “some are in the ditch and some are on the high road. I can't remember all the names but their faces are clear in my mind. When we get together we always have a good time. They're all friends of mine!” In a 2021 that has become so increasingly polarized that families stop speaking because of their differing political alliances, where debates over wearing masks have turned physical, and where everyone has retreated into their own little tribe, “Holy Hotty Toddy” is a much needed celebration of the collective good of individuality.

Of course, eventually even the most inclusive person has to admit defeat and that's where “Goodbye is the Last Word” comes in. It's a song about realizing that you can only give a toxic person so many chances before you have to cut him loose, and about the realization that their projections don't make you the bad guy. “I wish you could be the one you seem to be. You try to make me feel there's something wrong with me,” Thorn sings, later walking away for good, “Now that I know I'm good enough, I no longer need you.”

Another highlight is “Breaking Up For Good Again”, a duet with his wife Heather. One of Thorn's best strengths is putting seemingly contradictory terms into a song title and then making them pay off. Anyone who has been in a long term relationship has probably experienced a couple (dozen) times when you and your spouse are absolutely convinced the next step is divorce court, only to sheepishly come home the next day so you can threaten to end it all a few months down the line. It's hard not to identify with “We both want out, but we both want in.” Heather has never sung on one of his album's before (or on any other album) and that's a mistake on Paul's part. Not only does Heather hold her own on the song, her pure voice is the perfect counterpart to Paul's more rough-hewn vocals.

“Sapphire Dream” is a song Thorn co-wrote with his daughter Kitty, who wanted to write something that sounded like her favorite band, The Beatles. While it never gets into the experimental weirdness of The Beatles' later stuff, it's a nice homage to their middle period, that time between “She Loves You” and “I Am the Walrus.” A simple breakup song, Kitty accompanied Paul in the studio and again proved that vocal talent runs in the family.

Nothing on Never Too Late to Call is a surprise. If you like Paul Thorn, you're going to like this album. If you don't like Paul Thorn, nothing here is going to change your mind. And if you're new to Thorn, this is as good a place as any to find out. While he's matured as an artist since Hammer & Nail way back in 1997, but that core interplay between gospel, blues, and balladry remains, as does his Dean Martin-esque ability to make you laugh and cry in just 40 minutes.