This is Fritts’ long-overdue close-up. For years he has hated to hear his own voice. Even in his prime, he never considered himself a singer, and his own solo albums, just a handful over four decades, were packed distractingly with famous friends and well-known admirers. But Oh My Goodness bravely puts that burr of a voice right in the foreground, and his barbed Shoals twang disguises a bruised vulnerability, as though all the years have taken an emotional as well as a physical toll on him.
“I’m prouder of this record than anything I’ve ever done,” he says. “I know people say that about every record, but hey, I’ve never said that before. There are a lot of things I didn’t like about my other records – mostly me! But I found a way to do these songs where it didn’t bother me to hear them played back. That’s never happened before.”