Mark Fredson’s Company Man captures a musician in transition
Mark Fredson’s latest album, Company Man is the latest chapter in a musical journey spans more than two decades. Hailing from Port Angeles, Washington, Fredson was just a sophomore in high school – when he signed his first record deal. From then on, there was no stopping him. As a frontman, songwriter, pianist, and producer, his body of work is vast, from the outlaw country of Margo Price’s “Hurtin’ (On the Bottle),” to the theatrical pop anthems that have defined his solo career.
Company Man explores the tension between chaotic beauty of youth and the mundane realities of growing older, all while refusing to let go of a life in service to music, even if it’s sometimes more labor than love.
Fredson’s high-octane days as the frontman of the Nashville-by-way-of-Port Angeles band The Lonely H had their fair share of musical highlights, but it wasn’t until he went solo that Fredson’s true musical identity was solidified. After releasing his debut solo album, Going to the Movies, in 2020, Fredson followed up with two full-length efforts, 2021’s Nothing But Night and 2023’s Outskirts. Now, with Company Man, he dives deeper into the internal conflicts brought on by the pesky hands of time and the realities of making ends meet. Across its 10 lean tracks, Fredson reckons with the challenges of making art while spending over a decade working in the restaurant industry.
Was it worth it? The album continues to pose this stubborn question, even if the answer remains elusive.
With Company Man, Fredson shifts gears sonically, embracing a more polished and layered sound than ever before. Though the album retains his signature bedroom pop sensibilities – home recordings crafted largely alone in his East Nashville studio – it also benefits from new production techniques and a deeper pool of collaborators.
Fredson tells Indie Pulse Music, “On this one I really wanted to up the production level. I tracked every song at a higher bit rate, I bought a tube pre-amp to run my vocals and keyboards through, and invested in a bunch of other gear to help me level up.”
The result is an album that feels fresh yet familiar, blending Fredson’s influences – classic rock, indie pop, and soft rock – with a modern sheen. Aided by an impressive roster of some of Nashville’s best, Company Man introduces a rich, layered sound that signals Fredson’s growth as a producer. And he got the collaborators.
“It’s also my most extensive musician credit list of any of my albums by far,” Fredson reflects. “Whereas the previous albums all had mainly one player on each instrument throughout the whole album, on this one I really dug heavily into my rolodex and called upon a bunch of different players I’ve come to know over the course of my time in Nashville. Three different bassists, three drummers, three guitarists, my trusty saxophonist, a couple string arrangements later, and you’ve got a pretty stacked credits list.”
For Fredson, moving back to his childhood home on the Olympic Peninsula played a significant role in the creation of Company Man. After spending close to 14 years in Nashville, he made the decision to leave, citing a natural end to his time in Music City.
“No one wants to be the last one at the party, that’s what I keep telling myself. You know, I did my time in Nashville, and I’ll always look back on my time there fondly. Probably more fondly the longer I’m away. But in the end, I arrived at the conclusion that it was time to take a bow and leave with my head held high, or at least not with my tail between my legs” he museed.
Now back in the Pacific Northwest, Fredson has found new inspiration in the stunning natural surroundings of his hometown. “I can play and make music anywhere, and I’d much rather do it surrounded by family and the indisputable natural beauty of the Olympic Peninsula. It’s kinda magical up here.”
Throughout the album, Fredson’s exploration of age and identity is apparent, particularly in tracks like “Me and Sarah,” which reflect the growing pains of an artist grappling with fading youth.
“It was the first song I sent to drummer Dom Billett…when he sent me the stems and I plugged them into the track, I knew it was gonna be a special one,” Fredson recalls.
The track’s groovy rhythm section, coupled with an emotionally charged instrumental outro, elevates it to one of Fredson’s proudest moments. “I’ve also never done an instrumental outro like that and I just think it’s some of the coolest sounding stuff in my discography thanks to all the great musicians that brought it to life.”
While the songs on Company Man were written before his move back to Washington, the sentiment of his impending departure is the most distilled in the album’s final track, “That’s That.” The song serves as both an emotional farewell to Nashville and an embrace of a new chapter, if not lyrically, at least sonically.
“The song sounds hopeful but thematically it’s pretty sad. Some of my favorite pop songs have that juxtaposition between light, cheery music and darker lyrical elements, and that’s what I was going for with this one. It’s like I’m finally giving up on being cool, but hey at least there’s marimbas! ‘All the prizes won from when I was young meant next to nothing then and nothing to me now’ is one of my favorite lyrics and also one of the toughest pills to swallow, probably because the truth hurts.”
Despite the heavy themes of aging and loss, Company Man is not without its moments of lightness and joy. Fredson’s ability to balance the mournful with the hopeful is a defining trait of the album.
In the end, Company Man captures a musician in transition – reflecting on the years that have passed, reconciling with the decisions made, and confronting the looming prospect of mid life in the not too distant future. Fredson’s taken a long hard look in the mirror and his expectations have been adjusted accordingly. Sure he may not be the young gun he once was, and maybe he lost the firm grip he once had on his dreams as a result. But if Company Man is any indication, he’d be well advised to hang on to them for dear life.
