The War and Treaty's songs of ardent commitment find deeper clarity on 'Lover's Game'
The War and Treaty came in hot back in 2017, giving house-wrecking performances at the Americana Music Festival and every other stage that would have them. Matched in music and marriage, after separately enduring a youthful bout with the music industry and a life-altering tour of duty in Iraq, Tanya and Michael Trotter Jr. had a striking duo dynamic. They grasped what they could do with Black gospel's galvanizing call-and-response patterns, they'd taken notes from the breathlessly theatrical crescendos of their recent predecessors The Civil Wars and they stoked the fervent fires of their own singing with strenuous exhortation and unfailing poise. Theirs was, and still is, music of ardent commitment.
Last spring, I took note of signs that the War and Treaty might be in pursuit of somewhat subtler revelations. During the Country Music Hall of Fame's medallion ceremony that May, it was one of the acts invited to pay tribute to posthumous inductee Ray Charles. The duo's reading of "You Don't Know Me," from Charles' countrypolitan magnum opus Modern Sounds in Country and Western Music, turned the ache of being invisible to a would-be flame into a sumptuous, mutual confession of insecure desire.
That ultimate destination turned out to be , the first War and Treaty full-length released on a major country label (Mercury Nashville). With industrious producer Dave Cobb, the
