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Thursday, June 4 , 2020
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
ARTS

Kip Moore’s earthy, 
varied ‘Wild World’

Kip Moore entered my life the way most 
country singers did in 2011 — by singing about a 
truck. More precisely, “Somethin’ ‘Bout a Truck.” 
For months on end the cheeky, feel-good track 
was playing every time I turned on the radio. 
Successful follow-up singles “Beer Money” and 
“Hey Pretty Girl” ostensibly signalled Kip’s com-
ing country stardom. Until, of course, they didn’t. 
Nine years later, Wild World finds a contempla-
tive Kip carving out a thoughtful plot of country 
music for himself outside of Nashville — a star 
unrealized, but a star nonetheless.
The new Kip Moore is gritty. In 
his current single “Red White Blue 
Jean American Dream,” Moore 
traces artists’ pilgrimages across 
America, but having grown out his 
hair and traded in baseball caps 
for beanies, it’s clear the former Nashville cookie 
cutter has gone on a self-actualization journey of 
his own. “Dylan went to New York, Cash went to 
Nashville / Mark Twain floated on the Mississippi 
Queen” he chants. I imagine an autobiographical 
addition to the song going like this: Moore went to 
Red River Gorge, Kentucky. 
That’s where we find him in Wild World’s 
promotional documentary “7 Days at the Rock.” 
While some clips could be mistaken for a luxury 
outdoors-wear commercial, I was stunned by how 
closely certain images resembled the texture I had 
imagined listening to Moore’s album. At one point, 
Kip sits in a rustic-looking rocking chair while sip-
ping black coffee, strumming along to the sounds 
of the woods and playing for a cat called Boots. 
And yet, Kip Moore is no Tyler Childers. 
Despite planting roots in Appalachia, Wild 
World’s sound is recognizably mainstream. With 
crisp production that favors electric guitar riffs 
and arena-ready drums over fiddle solos, there’s 
no mistaking Kip’s music for Americana. But his 
raspy voice and use of recognizably real instru-

ments means Moore doesn’t sound pop either. 
Instead, Kip’s country music lands closer to rock. 
Still, Wild World’s earthy tones aren’t accidental, 
but align with the richness of its stories. 
“
Janie Blu” outlines the trappings of a strained 
relationship and addiction. “Southpaw” serves as 
Moore’s “gunslinging” mission statement. “Fire or 
Flame” watches Kip wrestle not with faith, but his 
inclination to ramble toward the light and trouble. 
“He took my hand, I shook it free” he smirks. 
And those are just the first three songs. “It’s a 
wild world,” Moore claims in the title track, so he 
promises to “stay wild” too.
Rock climbing, surfing, skateboarding — “7 
Days at the Rock” shows how 
dedicated Moore is to keeping that 
promise. What it fails to show how-
ever, is any desire Kip might have to 
get back to the top of the country 
charts. The hopeful “She’s Mine” 
and rollicking “South” both reveal 
glimmers of the Kip we met in 2011. These songs 
have the kind of bouncy, up-beat production and 
sing-along ready lyrics that once upon a time 
would have made for country radio gold. 
Near the end of “7 Days at the Rock,” Moore 
starts singing unaccompanied while staring sol-
emnly into a fire pit. “Payin’ Hard” details his 
regret about lost love and lost time with his late 
father from playing shows instead. “My life’s a 
credit card / play now, pay later and I’m payin’ 
hard” he whispers, presumably to himself, his 
voice cracking alongside the fire. As sentimental 
as it sounds — it works. Moore’s quasi-outsider 
status makes his lows feel more relatable than 
those of his hitmaker peers.
The landscape of Moore’s Wild World is practi-
cally devoid of trucks, beer and explicitly “pretty 
girls.” But that’s not why I was so taken by it. 
Country radio is a finicky beast and it made Moore 
a different kind of outlaw. He was spit out of the 
Nashville scene just as quickly as he was taken in. 
Lucky for us, some things grow better in the dark 
— Kip Moore is one of them.

KATIE BEEKMAN
Daily Arts Writer

Watercolor: a guide

This piece is part of a series on “Art dur-
ing COVID,” an exploration of art forms 
to keep our idle minds creative during this 
pandemic. With many of us at home, our 
minds have ample time to wander, wonder 
and create. This series highlights accessi-
ble and immersive art forms to both pro-
duce and consume during the pandemic 
months and beyond.
How do we show our gratitude for the 
world around us? 
It’s a question that’s been on my mind 
recently. As spring reaches its full force, 
the world begs for my attention. I can 
admire the deep pink eastern rosebuds, 
the velvety white crabapples, the com-
forting pale lilacs, but how do I give 
back? 
For most of my life, this exchange 
with the world has felt one-dimension-
al: The Earth provides food, shelter, air, 
water, beauty, and all I can do is admire 
in response. I do plenty to advocate for 
the Earth on a macro scale — recycling, 
composting, repurposing. I believe this 
is easier to do: With some effort, anyone 
can do their part to reduce their carbon 
footprint. But what about showing grati-
tude for the Earth on a micro scale? How 
often do we thank a tree we pass for giv-
ing us clean air and water, or think of the 
life behind a flower before planting it in 
our garden? These small-scale interac-
tions make up the bigger whole — eco-
systems and biomes — that we tend to 
focus more on. We can’t truly love our 
planet without paying attention to the 
little things. 
Watercolor is one of my humble 
attempts to show my appreciation for 
these small wonders. Painting a tree, 
a leaf, even a blade of grass, shows the 
world that I’m thinking about it and lis-
tening to its calls. Of all wet and dry art 
forms, the effortless contours and gradi-
ents of watercolor makes it my favorite 
for representing the natural world. It’s 
fast, fills up a space quickly with color 
and begs us not to overthink our strokes. 
It’s raw. It’s natural. 
As quarantine leaves us with large 
pockets of empty time, watercolor is 
an undemanding way to fill that space 
with color and life. Representing a liv-
ing form that’s not your own reminds us 
that we’re not truly isolated when life 
beckons us from all directions. Yet, for 
all its benefits, watercolor can be one of 
the most intimidating art mediums for 
beginners. I remember agonizing over 
where to place colors, confused by how 
much water was too much and how much 
was too little. It would be insulting to 
reduce watercolor to a science, as there’s 
no correct method, but the steps below 

can be helpful to get started. 
Watercolor doesn’t demand much. The 
paints come in two forms — in tubes or in 
a pan. If you’re painting on the go, por-
table palettes offer a generous array of 
colors, complete with a water brush and 
mixing compartments. My Reeves water-
color set has served me well over the 
years, but any set is fine, coupled with 
watercolor paper and a brush.
Pick a subject, but not just anything. 
Pick something with meaning to you, 
a form that you could spend at least a 
paragraph describing. I inevitably draw 
my inspiration from the environment, 
oftentimes while sitting on my drive-
way. Yesterday, I painted the maple tree 
in my yard whose branches gently touch 
the roof of my car. Maple trees weave 
together my relationship with Michigan 
and my infatuation with the fall colors 
of our deciduous landscape. Pick some-
thing that feels like home. 
The first streak of color feels glori-
ous. I like to wet my brush, dab on a little 
color and glide it across the page. Water-
color fills up space easily and doesn’t 
give you much time to think. I focus 
on the bigger picture instead of worry-
ing about each individual brush stroke. 
I liken this to zooming out my perspec-
tive, trying to represent a general shape 
first before painting fine details. I lose 
myself in the immediate satisfaction of 
color breathing my image to life. I let the 
excess water spill over slightly, which 
gives me a base to continue building 
color.
I let my first layer of paint dry before 
piling more on top, making each layer 
progressively darker than the last. Shad-
ing adds depth to your work; pools of 
black and slashes of white make an 
image seem real. I find it helpful to pick 
a direction of light — the upper right cor-
ner of the page, for example — and paint 
everything closer to this point lighter, as 
if the light was hitting the object. Every-
thing farther away should be darker, in 
shadow. 
Once I start adding other colors to the 
mix, it’s aimless to try and describe a 
methodology. There are no rules. 
When I succumb to the power of 
watercolor, I feel connected to the Earth, 
grounded to my colors, clear in my mind. 
It’s my way of acknowledging the small 
lives around us — the beetle climbing 
over mounds of earth, the peonies in full 
bloom, the branches shimmering in the 
light. I paint from a place of intangible 
gratitude, giving thanks and remem-
brance to our Earth. If your paintings 
come from a place of love, you’ve suc-
ceeded. 

TRINA PAL
Daily Arts Writer

SUMMER SERIES
SUMMER SERIES
MUSIC REVIEW
MUSIC REVIEW

Wild World
Kip Moore
MCA Nashville

