Some albums ask you to lean in. 1682 invites you to settle in. Shawn Lane and Richard Bennett’s new collaboration doesn’t shout for your attention — it earns it gently, with six songs that feel timeless yet stubbornly human, rooted in the kind of folk storytelling that never really goes out of style.
The title track, “1682,” sets the tone immediately. A spirit from centuries ago drifts unseen through the present day, observing the small moments we rush past. It’s an unusual lyrical premise for a Bluegrass project, but Lane sells it with a voice that carries both warmth and a ghostly edge. His delivery doesn’t push — it floats, letting each word hang like mist. Bennett’s guitar work lays the foundation, giving the song a heartbeat that’s steady but never insistent. Grayson Lane’s mandolin lines flutter around the edges like distant memories you’re not quite ready to name.
“Mountains and Miles” follows and lifts the mood with a sense of wanderlust. The interplay between the two guitarists — plus the subtle pulse of Jacob McFadyen’s bass — gives the track a forward momentum, like a well-worn road winding through backcountry hills. It’s the kind of song that plays best with the windows down and nowhere particular to be.
Where the record truly stakes its claim, though, is in its mood shifts. “Street Light” dials the energy way down, trading busy picking for piano chords that ring out like echoes on an empty street. Lane’s vocal is more naked here — every syllable carries weight, every pause feels like it’s holding a secret. There’s percussion, too, but so sparse you wonder if you imagined it.
“Grey Wind” and “1000 Miles” keep the mood intact, exploring distance and memory through arrangements that prize subtlety over flash. It’s a testament to Lane and Bennett’s shared vision that even at its quietest, this record never drifts into background music. There’s intention stitched into every rest, every muted string squeak. It feels real because it is.
Then there’s “Take Me Home.” The idea of covering Phil Collins in an acoustic Bluegrass style sounds like it shouldn’t work — yet here it feels like the album’s thesis statement. Stripped of its ‘80s bombast, the song becomes something intimate, almost weary. When Lane sings “Take, take me home,” it’s not an epic anthem — it’s a whisper from someone who’s been wandering far too long.
In a world full of albums that want to be your next playlist filler, 1682 stands apart by doing almost nothing except what it needs to do. It breathes, it waits, it lingers. There’s no rush here, no chase for a radio hit. Just two master musicians trusting that if they play from the heart, someone out there will hear them — maybe even a spirit from 1682.
Mindy McCall
