There has always been something quietly devastating about the music of The Delines. While much of modern Americana romanticises the open road and the myth of the wandering outlaw, the Portland outfit have spent years telling the stories that come after the dust settles, the characters left behind, the broken plans, the people quietly trying to survive the consequences of bad luck and worse decisions. On their latest record, The Set Up, that perspective feels sharper and more cinematic than ever, resulting in an album that plays out less like a traditional collection of songs and more like a late-night film about the fragile lives that exist on the edges of the American dream.
At the centre of it all is songwriter Willy Vlautin, whose storytelling has long blurred the line between music and literature. His characters don’t deal in grand gestures or triumphant redemption arcs. Instead, they live in motels, linger in hospital corridors, sit alone in parked cars and wait for something in their lives to shift. Delivering those stories is vocalist Amy Boone, whose voice remains one of the most quietly powerful instruments in modern Americana. She doesn’t belt or dramatise; she simply inhabits the songs, giving each character a weary humanity that makes their struggles feel painfully real.
The album opens with The Set Up Part 1, a slow, atmospheric introduction that immediately establishes the tone. Rather than kicking the door open with a hook-heavy statement, the band ease listeners into the world of the record. Sparse instrumentation drifts around the narrative, horns hovering in the background while the story begins to unfold. It feels less like the start of an album and more like the opening scene of a noir film, the moment where the camera pans across a dimly lit city and you already sense that the people inside it are heading for trouble.
From there, The Set Up gradually introduces its cast of characters. Can You Get Me Out Of Phoenix? stands out early on, capturing the perspective of someone reflecting on the wreckage of a life shaped by mistakes and broken promises. It’s classic Delines storytelling: intimate, melancholic, and delivered with a sense of quiet resignation rather than melodrama. That restraint is what gives the song its emotional weight. Boone never pushes the performance too far, allowing the sadness to creep in naturally.
The album’s most devastating moment arrives with Dilaudid Diane, a delicate piano-led piece that paints a heartbreaking portrait of addiction. The arrangement is beautifully understated, allowing Boone’s vocal to sit front and centre as the story unfolds. It’s the kind of song that doesn’t hit immediately but slowly sinks in, revealing its emotional depth with every listen. By the time the final notes fade, it leaves a lingering heaviness that’s difficult to shake.
Elsewhere, Jumping Off In Madras delivers one of the album’s most vivid narratives, capturing a character standing at a crossroads in their life. Like many of Vlautin’s best songs, it feels less like a traditional lyric and more like a short story set to music, full of small details that make the world feel tangible. You can almost see the places these characters inhabit, the faded towns, the lonely highways, the dimly lit rooms where difficult choices are made.
The band remain masters of atmosphere. The Delines have never been about flashy musicianship or dramatic production. Instead, they rely on subtle textures: slow-burn horns, gentle piano lines, and rhythm sections that move with a patient, almost hypnotic pace. It’s a sound that perfectly complements the storytelling, creating the feeling that each track is unfolding in real time. The downside of this approach is that the album occasionally drifts in the middle stretch. Some moments feel more like connective tissue between the stronger songs, and the pacing can become a little too subdued for its own good.
Still, even in its quieter moments, the album maintains a compelling sense of mood. Tracks like Keep The Shades Down deepen the record’s atmosphere, leaning further into the smoky, cinematic sound that has become the band’s signature. It’s music built for late-night listening, the kind that feels most at home in the small hours when the world is quiet and the mind starts replaying old memories.
As the album moves toward its closing stretch, the emotional weight only grows heavier. Walking With His Sleeves Down strips things back even further, leaving Boone’s voice almost completely exposed against a sparse arrangement. It’s a haunting performance that captures the loneliness running through the heart of the record. By the time the album reaches its closing track, The Last Time I Saw Her, the mood feels almost ghostlike. The instrumental piece acts as a quiet epilogue, allowing the album to fade out slowly rather than end with a dramatic final statement. It’s a subtle conclusion, but it perfectly suits the record’s tone. The Set Up was never meant to provide easy answers or cathartic release. Instead, it lingers in the uncertainty that defines the lives of its characters.
What makes the album work so well is its emotional authenticity. Vlautin writes with enormous empathy for the people in his stories, never judging them even when their decisions lead them into darker places. Boone, meanwhile, delivers every line with a sense of lived-in experience that makes those characters feel tangible. Together, they create something that feels deeply human, an album full of small tragedies, fragile hopes, and moments of quiet understanding.
It isn’t a perfect record. The pacing occasionally drags, and listeners looking for immediate hooks may find the album’s slow-burning nature challenging. But those willing to settle into its atmosphere will find a deeply immersive listening experience. With The Set Up, The Delines have crafted one of their most atmospheric and emotionally resonant albums yet. It’s a record that doesn’t shout for attention but slowly pulls you into its world, revealing its depth over time. Bleak, beautiful, and quietly powerful, it’s the kind of album that lingers long after the final note fades.
For fans of: Jason Isbell, Drive-By Truckers, Amanda Shires
‘The Set Up’ by The Delines is out now on Decor Records.
Words by Ell Bradbury
