If you're beginning to notice a theme, that's intentional; Orville Peck began with Pony way back in 2019, offering up shoegaze-inflected outlaw country in one of the best independent debuts in recent Canadian music history. The excellent Show Pony EP followed, and sophomore album Bronco after that. Third studio album Stampede (a collaborative LP featuring some of music's biggest names) arrived just two years ago, and now we have Mule, a concept album that chronologically traces the singer-songwriter's path to sobriety, rich in metaphor and revelation, but lacking in staying power. It's an unfortunate pattern among newly sober artists: achieving inner peace at the (hopefully temporary) cost of their creative fire. That's not to say that only true suffering begets good art — in fact, many sober artists go on to create their magnum opus in the later years of their sobriety journeys — but it's common that the first album to emerge from that newfound clarity comes rife with falsely inflated confidence in their creative pinnacle. Despite its rich songwriter and expansive arrangements, Mule is sadly one such case. That's not to say that the effort is meritless. Peck's well-documented struggles with mental health and the side-effects of his meteoric rise to fame are transparently displayed here, while the artist simultaneously continues to employ his tried-and-true cowboy imagery across the album's lyrics. We're offered his most honest, autobiographical writing on Mule — from partying on high to hitting rock bottom, seeking rehabilitation to experiencing the world with new eyes, all while a cycle of breaking up and making up swirls beneath. Narratively, it's among Peck's strongest work. Musically, however, it just doesn't quite click. Over the years, Peck has steadily begun to drop the mask, both literally and figuratively — and with that, the disappearing mystery leaves little to be desired. His most effective songwriting blooms when he's writing from a place of shadows and unspoken depth. Mule conversely puts it all on display, removing the intrigue once integral to the timeless character of Orville Peck, exposing his figurative iPhone face. While this latest effort undoubtedly offers an inspiring showcase a previously unseen version of a hopeful man, lover, musician and cowboy, his self-proclaimed turn to "bluegrass" (which is a stretch of the genre's definition, to be sure) sees Peck playing outside his strengths. Peck metaphorically posits himself as the mule: a hardworking, stubborn animal; also someone who smuggles drugs. The offspring of a horse and donkey, the animal can't procreate, and its value is thus tied to its agricultural purpose. Somewhat parallel to that archetype, Peck's ceaseless musical output this decade has almost surely come at the cost of his wellbeing, as he so plainly sings, "So catch me on the evening news / 'Dumb fag dies from the rehab blues' / I guess I could use some rest but man, who's got the time?" ("Rehab Blues"). This struggle may one day be a well for his artistic development — and if other artists' patterns are any signal of what's to come, Peck is very likely to hit the mark on the next record — but for now, Mule will remain a bookend to a chapter that indeed needed to close. We should be thankful he got the help he needed now, lest he burn out completely ahead of his next creative peak. Misery isn't sustainable. Few artists maintain a streak of albums rooted in it, and many die or disappear as a result of sustained suffering. We know this. But edge does not only reside in the realm of sadness. Don't forget, this man is punk as hell. Visions of his encroaching next chapter glimmer on sleeper track "The Breeze, the Grass, the Mourning Dove and Me," perhaps the album's most meaningful song. Peck viscerally paints a picture of his newfound hope: "I come over just to see your face / I can't think of what to say / Except for stay, please just stay / Help me to forget myself, I never knew I needed help / Okay, I'll just wait / 'Cause someday you'll come back to me / I feel it in my bones you see." Yearning, melancholy — these are hallmarks of the lonesome cowboy we know, only now those tenets are reconfigured for happiness. Let's see where this goes.