ORVILLE PECK - Mule

Come, dear little one, come and listen to the old tune about how men chase away their darkness: the needle won't thread when it's tied to the spool, here lies a man turned into a mule. Come walk through the fire, come stand with the few who break their hearts to be saved, but the heart cannot be saved by the wretched and the sorrowful, here lies a man turned into a mule
("Prologue Eulogy Of A Man Turned Mule").

For Orville Peck the time has come to take off the mask, or at least to unveil part of his face to expose those conflicting emotions that were dragging him into darkness, overwhelmed first by alcohol and then by drugs. "Mule" tells the story of the path to sobriety, the human and artistic rebirth of a talented and charismatic musician. It's not a tale of triumphs and redemption so much as one of resignation; Orville Peck drafts a dramatic and honest autobiography in which romantic disappointments and unrestrained partying alternate in an up-and-down journey.

Emmylou Harris, Noah Cyrus and Allison Russell sing a delightful a cappella chorus for the album's brief intro, "Prologue Eulogy Of A Man Turned Mule", a statement of intent followed by two episodes central to the narrative of "Mule". The return home after the darkness is marked by the heavy, powerful sound of "Big Ol' House". Orville Peck immediately brandishes his most beloved credentials: the deep baritone voice and the sonic mélange between outlaw country and the iconography of Elvis Presley forcefully return to the musician's creative universe, which, after delivering one of the most incisive and compelling performances of his repertoire, also recovers the latex mask.

"Mule" is an album that works thanks to the anthropological and eternal duel between love and death. Orville sings over easygoing country–blues chords about encounters with alcoholics anonymous and the days when he just wanted to die: "Quanti mi trovi al telegiornale della sera, uno stupido frocio muore per la depressione da riabilitazione, immagino che mi servirebbe un po' di riposo, ma chi ha tempo?" ("Rehab Blues"), deftly navigating between queer theatricality and kitsch with the same audacity as his early work ("Cowboy Heart").
For a moment he even appears proud and self-assured ("Ring The Bell"), once again displays a spirited rockabilly touch ("Too Little, Too Late") and finally gives in to the charm of bluegrass ("The Breeze, The Grass, The Mourning Dove And Me"). In this direct reckoning with himself, Peck lines up dreams and memories, wrapping them in delightful acoustic riffs and a languid slide guitar ("The Fall"), converses with his own conscience on the anguished "War Of The Worlds" and then starts running again, perhaps aimlessly but with a renewed will to live ("Too Little, Too Late").

Conceptually cohesive, Orville Peck's new album is also musically solid, perhaps slightly more mainstream than his early work, but undoubtedly a return to top form after the disappointing duets project "Stampede". For the cowboy turned gay icon, the time has come both for revelation and for definitive redemption. Setting aside the bold reds of his debut "Pony", the lush gold on a dark background of "Bronco" and the deceptive multicolor of "Stampede", everything turns black and white before looking once again to the future with fresh eyes. "Mule" is the story of a man who has walked through fire, but who has chosen not to lick his wounds and instead to carry on with the mule's steady gait toward a tomorrow that is not free of obstacles and hardship; but the old vulnerability is now the strength of an artist taking decisive steps toward his definitive consecration.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

10/10/2026