Montana-born and now living in Texas, self-proclaimed LGBTQ cowboy with assorted irons blazing within varying fires. His musical endeavors are among his most pre-eminent pursuits. However, Mike Schikora is a talented woodworker whose skills in crafting custom pieces as well as renovating existing ones have built him a large commercial and residential client base. He likewise has a profitable sideline as a part-time gourmet caterer.
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His fourth album, Outlaw from the South, reveals his truest path for me. Schikora’s authenticity and seemingly effortless elan with an assortment of classic country styles work as a much-needed rebuke to overly stylized pop-targeted twaddle. Collaborators such as Kathie Baillie from the Grammy-nominated group Baillie & the Boys and Michael Bonagura bolster each of Outlaw from the South’s dozen songs with sympathetic chemistry that completes Schikora’s vision.
The title track doesn’t mince words nor waste energy. The wanton, indiscriminate violence of the songwriting for “Outlaw from the South” never tempers its bleak view, and Schikora plays it straight. Newcomers to his music will immediately note the lack of any compromise in either his lyrical or musical makeup. Theatrical trappings abound throughout the arrangement but enhance the song’s dramatic properties rather than landing ham-fisted for listeners. The twangy guitar bite puts an emphatic sural exclamation point on the performance.
“These Are the Good Old Days” is a pensive reflection on the merits of living in the present. Listeners can readily discern other messages; it’s a cautionary note about the perils of living as a slave to nostalgia. Acoustic instrumentation powers the cut while Schikora and Baillie’s voices pair together for an incandescent near-duet. Ghostly yet warm sheets of organ color Schikora’s “Waitin’ Out a Storm” and give its straight-ahead march added weight. The physical yet minimalist backbeat accentuates the number with the light swing of its steady pulse. It’s another song about lessons learned hard but nonetheless learned. Schikora has a real affinity for these types of songs.
“It Ain’t Whiskey til It Rains” is a clear example of his gifts with this style. It’s an unapologetic celebration of ethanol-spurred dissolution and has a stomping country rock swagger ideal for the song. Many of the lyrics are essentially meaningless, especially in the song’s first verse, but Schikora delivers them with such an emphatic yowl that they convey the importance of life and death in every syllable. The elegant shamble of “Something from Me to You” is one of Outlaw from the South’s best love ballads, a form Schikora has an obvious affection for, and it’s notable how he largely sticks to gender-neutral depictions of romance. This cut practically emits a glow, and its luminous sound exerts a dream-like effect on listeners.
“When Forever Smiles” is a different sort of love song. It’s a folky, singer/songwriter-styled solo performance with Schikora and an acoustic guitar. He’s more than talented enough to carry off such a presentation, and the open-hearted intimacy helps transform this into one of the album’s most memorable moments. Baillie’s vocals team with Schikora again for the closer “Last Rose of Summer”. It’s another muted, low-key endeavor and introduces harmonica to the album’s instrumental mix. The song settles Mike Schikora’s Outlaw from the South in a way few other tracks could. It’s an album offering a lot and holds up under repeated listens.
Chadwick Easton