Bronco

It’s a tried and tested sound but Peck’s perspective feels utterly fresh, and suggests perhaps all of the glitz and camp are actually just Peck being true to himself.

At 15 songs, Bronco is dense. It’s also incredibly addictive. At every turn on Bronco, Peck’s megawatt voice soars. His extensive range glides easily from bass to falsetto, and there isn’t a moment his voice, phrasing, and incredible gift for melody doesn’t captivate.

It’s an album of unabashed growth, as the artist gets in his feelings but never veers into self-pity. The masked cowboy is – paradoxically – baring his soul, unbridled and all the better for it.

Orville Peck's image as the glamorous and subversive masked man of country music still feels a bit gimmicky, but in the grand show biz tradition, it's a character that puts the spotlight firmly on a genuine talent, and Bronco is a glorious achievement that fulfills Peck's promise and then some.

‘Bronco’ flits between theatricality and poignancy, almost every song sounding like it could score a Western’s pivotal moment with ease. Helmed by the singer’s powerhouse vocals, it’s impossible not to be drawn in throughout the album’s 15 country-rock-song run.

He may have ditched the grit that got him here, but the glam he's donning now suits him just fine. While the horse remains untamed, the reins have clearly been fastened.

When the production is as over the top as Peck himself, it can be easy to excuse—if not quite ignore—these affectations, but whenever he’s relatively unadorned, as on “Let Me Drown” and “City of Gold,” his unsteady, amelodic quaver is difficult to ignore. All these tics were on Pony, too, yet there they added to the charm. Here, as part of a grander spectacle, they become a distraction—a nagging element that keeps Bronco feeling earthbound.