Wait Til I Get Over passes story down from (and heaps homage upon) Durand Jones’s hometown of Hillaryville, Louisiana. Here, on his debut solo album, Jones lays us several courses and flavors of sound that are all distinctly Southern and Black—rhythms heavy with raw, Delta grit; bright exhalations of church spirituals; even tender, cadent spoken word. Taken as a whole, Wait Til I Get Over is a mesmerizing new addition to Southern Black music, affirming Jones as a uniquely gifted artist and vanguard of the form.

 Throughout the album, Jones shows us he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, enduring with a concept until it takes the proper form. On lead single “Lord Have Mercy”, Jones describes the method and reward of this rare live-band recording—to simply play it, back to back without stopping, until the energy caught up to his lyrics and mood references. With Ben Lumsdaine on drums, Drake Ritter on guitar, Matt Romy on keyboards, and Glenn Myers on bass, the result is reminiscent of Muscle Shoals—unconstrained, defiant, and thoroughly precise.

 In the title track, Jones resurrects vintage Gospel composition to provide us something new but familiar. Based loosely on a “Lining Hymn” style, Jones tried to embody and emulate specific members of his hometown choir—mentors and keepers of this specific musical tradition—as he sang through every choral section himself. It’s a tactile approach and a visceral success, stomping louder and louder until synths set the song alight, illustrating the refrain “I’ll hitch on my wings, and then I’ll try the air”.

As one of the singers and principle songwriters of his band Durand Jones and the Indications, Jones’s professional creative efforts have been, for the most part, in aggregate. On Wait Til I Get Over, Jones leans into the vulnerability of his singular perspective, delivering something utterly distilled and potent.

Ultimately, Wait Til I Get Over is a study in Jones’s relationship to his roots: to a Black, country, barefoot childhood; to the verdant Gulf South; to his elders; to his queerness. “Through this process I’ve come to learn that I am a proud descendent of Longshoremen on the river, and sugarcane and rice farmers on the land—all in the deep rural south of Louisiana. I am a proud son of Hillaryville and I am proud to be a part of its legacy. This is my story.”