William Elliot Whitmore is an elderly black man who honed his musical chops while performing in blues bars and gospel choirs. Or at least he sure sounds like one. He’s actually a white guy in his early thirties who was born and raised in the farmlands of Iowa. Whitmore’s blues-meets-folk arrangements usually feature very barebones instrumentation, with often just a lonely banjo or acoustic guitar accompanying his distinct vocals. Whitmore sings in an intriguing growl/moan, which he developed by smoking lots of cigarettes while tending to chores on his family’s farm.

I first experienced Whitmore’s music when he released his third album, Song of the Blackbird, in 2006. I use the word “experienced” here, rather than “listened to,” because it’s impossible to merely listen to Whitmore’s music. His tales somehow managed to engage all of my senses. The songs on Blackbird painted rough images of life on an Iowan farm that were hauntingly real. I could almost feel the gritty soil beneath my fingernails, and hear the rain pounding on his tin roof. It was easy to imagine Whitmore tending to his crops and livestock while contemplating the meaning of life, death and whatever comes next. Blackbird was also Whitmore’s first album following the death of his father, which added a very somber mood to many of the songs.

Fast forward three years and Whitmore is still singing about barn owls and making sure his horses are fed. It’s nice to see Whitmore staying true to his roots, but thankfully he does let them branch out a little. Animals in the Dark, Whitmore’s newest album and debut for ANTI-Records, touches on new subjects such as crooked police, the evils of the Bush administration and the fact that “moonshine still gets you five to ten.” In addition to covering new song topics, Animals also finds Whitmore experimenting with a little more instrumentation. Many of the tracks feature full bands, organ solos or the occasional string section. The entire album can currently be listened to on Whitmore’s Myspace profile.

The first track, “Mutiny,” left me speechless after hearing Whitmore growling over just a military-style drumbeat. The lyrics tell of a sailor venting about the wicked captain of his ship. This sailor even goes far enough to unite his fellow crewmates in frenzied rebellion. “I just want to be free and take back what these old devils have taken from me.” It’s easy to see how this scenario could apply to a certain ex-president. Or it could actually just be about a jaded sailor. Whitmore has a knack for filling his songs with creative and sly metaphors like this.

“Mutiny” is the first of many tracks to focus on Whitmore’s problems with authority. The fourth track on Animals, “Old Devils,” compares living in America to the lack of freedom felt by prison inmates. “From behind these bars the view don’t change: desperation, death and despair. From what little I hear of the outside world, well it’s not too different out there." He later states, rather matter-of-factly, that by old devils he means “malicious politicians with nefarious schemes, charlatans and crooked cops.” Here’s a link to some live footage of “Old Devils.”

Whitmore doesn’t seem to be a big fan of Iowa’s police force. The third track on Animals, “Johnny Law,” tells a true story of Whitmore being arrested and held overnight for no apparent reason. “Being in a cell is like being in Hell for a man who longs to be free." It’s easy to see why Whitmore was a little pissed off. It must have been a drastic change going from wide-open cornfields to prison bars for a night. Here’s a link to some live footage of “Johnny Law.”

It’s nice to hear some of Whitmore’s thoughts on the world beyond his farm and fields. This is something I felt was missing from his previous albums. Of course, images of his farm still manage to work their way onto Animals. “Hell or High Water” tells of a friendly get-together with his friends and neighbors. “This little time that we have left to have a drink and catch a breath, well it might just be what saves our lives.” This scene should be familiar to any college student unwinding at Alehouse after a hard day’s studying. “Let the Rain Come In” finds Whitmore opening his door at night to find comfort in the sound of owls and howling dogs. The last track on Animals, “A Good Day to Die,” finds Whitmore reflecting after a days’ work on his farm. To play with an old cliché, it seems like you can take Whitmore from his farm but you can’t take the farm from his music.