No news bulletin there. You need excellent singers to elevate good material to great entertainment. He’s able to pull off that trick with “All Over Me.”
Is it a future classic? Of course not. Heck, it’s not even a Summer ’10 essential track. But it’s an enjoyable listen, something it likely wouldn’t have been if co-writer Rhett Akins was still given access to a studio mic.
Written by Rhett Akins, Dallas Davidson, and Ben Hayslip
The song title combined with Billy Currington’s recent track record had me ready to hate this one. But he’s rediscovered his “Good Directions” groove here, and he makes the qualities of a reprehensible person sound downright appealing.
As far as drinking songs go, this one matches the pace of the kind of drinking he’s talking about. Not everything needs to be a rave-up. Frankly, I”m sick of rave-ups.
Maybe the heat’s getting to me. I totally dig this.
Country, blues and rock ‘n’ roll – mostly the lattter two – combine for a hearty serving of frat boy fun on Jack Ingram’s latest single. “Barbie Doll” has been a fan favorite since its initial release on Ingram’s 1999 set Hey You, but this latest iteration boasts a driving arrangement that may finally get the track on mainstream radio.
The song marries Ingram’s straightforward hook sense to Todd Snider’s rambling barroom-sage style, wringing as much talk as it can out of a pretty slight premise (“dude, that girl you’re checking out is a total B-word”) and culminating in a big group shout-a-long.
It would probably be annoying as hell coming from a Jason Aldean-type, but Ingram sells it, delivering the kind of loose, grinning performance that can only be honed by performing one’s art for untold numbers of drunk guys.
I must say that part of me misses the slow-burning spite of the song’s earlier arrangement, but this rocked-up reinterpretation works in its own way, and the track still sounds fresher than most Nashville product. Plus, this single edit omits the distracting Dierks Bentley cameo featured on the album. Plus, Todd Snider still co-wrote it.
So “Barbie Doll” 2.0 turns out, y’know, pretty darn fun. A little mindless, maybe a bit of a sellout, but hey – I’ll get drunk to it.
If I follow the metaphor correctly, Toby Keith’s the dog and his lady is the bone that’s been tossed in his direction.
“Every Dog Has Its Day” approaches “Bad Dog, No Biscuit” in the pantheon of horrifically cheesy and terribly executed country metaphors. It should be beneath the dignity of one of the genre’s finest male vocalists ever.
If he was George Jones, this would be his “High-Tech Redneck.”
Written by Toby Keith, Bobby Pinson, and John Waples
It’s such a welcome relief to hear Patty Loveless doing something outside the mountain soul/classic country vein that I’m going to overlook the fact that this sounds modern simply in comparison.
“Drive” doesn’t approach the sonic euphoria of her work for Sony, but it’s fun to hear her do something that could’ve been entertaining filler on one of her late eighties MCA albums.
This one’s a free download for charity, so add it to your collection using the link below.
Keith Urban makes everything sound so effortless that it can be easy to overlook songs that legitimately could have used more effort.
This song sounds great, and will certainly pop on the radio. But for all his enthusiasm and the occasionally clever line, this doesn’t even approach the excellence of his earlier Radney Foster cover, “Raining On Sunday.”
If he’s going to use outside material, he should be more selective than he was this time around.
I totally bought this album and thought the video was powerful when I was, you know, 12. Now watching it makes me laugh and cringe but still kinda dig the song.
The CU staff is working on a Best of the Nineties singles list right now. This one’s not gonna be on it. But enjoy the trip back to 1992 anyway. This woman could sing!
(Look closely in the background and you can see an RIAA award for her labelmate John Anderson’s Seminole Wind.)
Here’s what Tim McGraw told New Country Magazine after his third album, All I Want, was released to surprising critical acclaim in 1995:
If 10 albums from now, it’s not better than this one, I shouldn’t be making them.
That’s a lofty goal, isn’t it? I think that just about every McGraw album released since All I Want has been of higher quality, but I don’t know that I’d argue that each one was better than the last. But is that ever true about any artist?
The only one I can think of off the top of my head is Kathy Mattea. I think that her recent run of Roses, Joy For Christmas Day, Right Out of Nowhere, and Coal have shown significant growth from one set to next.
Can you think of any artist with a decently long career that has consistently improved from album to album?
It’s not a hard and fast rule, but oftentimes, the most intriguing albums come from extreme adversity. Such is the case for Chely Wright, whose finest project to date is her latest album, Lifted off the Ground, which comes from a long period of deep depression and subsequent painful self-examination of where she fits in the world. Masterfully produced by Rodney Crowell, the album is mostly a reflection of Wright’s darkest times of tumult, which naturally results in an album of varied emotions.
To set the tone for the project, the album opens with the slow-burning “Broken”, a resignation of lovers who can’t open themselves up enough to let the other person in. “Damn Liar” is an aggressive condemnation to, you guessed it, a no-good liar, while “Like Me” wistfully (and possibly controversially) contemplates the future of a close friend, “Who’s gonna end up holding your hand? / A beautiful woman or a tall, handsome man?” The most clever song on a very solid album, however, is the quirky “Notes to the Coroner”, wherein the protagonist points to her in-depth diary as her notes to the coroner on what caused her death, which simply happens to be a broken heart.
It’s not mainstream country music like she once did, but rather, more folk-tinged with a bit of tasteful pop influence sprinkled throughout, which will likely feel more comfortable with the Americana crowd. As a result, Rodney Crowell’s sympathetic production expertly supports Wright’s clear voice with a crisp, yet soft, foundation. Moreover, by pouring her heart and unfiltered thoughts into this album, we are treated to an introspective collection of songs with unique and accessible melodies and, more importantly, intelligent insights.
I’ve been wanting to write about Bobbie Cryner for a long time. Thanks to some kind folks uploading her music on to YouTube, I can finally do so. (For whatever reason, her two fantastic albums – Bobbie Cryner and Girl o f Your Dreams – have yet to see digital release.)
This woman was good. Real good. Possibly the best unheralded singer-songwriter of her time, with a sultry voice formed at the crossroads of Bobbie Gentry and Dottie West. She first surfaced on Sony, releasing her self-titled debut in 1993. It was previewed by the autobiographical “Daddy Laid the Blues on Me.”
It could’ve been the start of a legendary career, but the single stalled at #63. Next up was the haunting “He Feels Guilty”, which went to #68. It has an amazing guitar intro. That video can be viewed here. Her debut album produced a third single, the #72 “You Could Steal Me.” This one’s heartbreakingly gorgeous, but I can’t find an online way of sharing it with you.
The rest of that first album includes a duet with Dwight Yoakam on “I Don’t Care”, the Buck Owens classic. Another stellar cover is “The One I Love the Most”, which could’ve been a George Jones classic back in the early seventies.
But the best material comes from her own pen. Check out “I Think It’s Over Now”, which features the lyric, “You don’t have to say you love me if you think there’s any doubt. But if you have to think it over, well, I think it’s over now.”
Also worth seeking out is the closing track from that album, “This Heart Speaks For Itself,” which has every part of her body fooling others that she’s over the man who let her down.
In one of those glorious second chances that the music business rarely doles out, Cryner resurfaced on MCA three years later, sporting a more cosmopolitan sound and look. On Girl of Your Dreams, Cryner penned all five of the strongest tracks, while also credibly covering Dusty Springfield and Dottie West. The lead single was “I Just Can’t Stand to Be Unhappy”, a kiss-off anthem that was too smart for country radio, stopping at #63:
What followed was an absolute masterpiece, one that still only reached #56 (and only #66 when Lorrie Morgan revived it two years later.) “You’d Think He’d Know Me Better” is shockingly good, managing to tell the story of a selfish and cold woman by having her talk about how inconsiderate her man is. She’s the only one left in the dark at the end, as the listeners all realize who’s really to blame for this broken home:
Her final MCA single was “I Didn’t Know My Own Strength”, which chronicled Cryner’s battle with alcoholism. It didn’t chart.
Again, the album had gems beyond what went to radio. “Vision of Loneliness” is amazing, a song that gained new resonance with me when my mother related to it so well during her bereavement:
The title track should’ve been a single, though it’s hard to imagine radio playing it after passing on her earlier work. I’d argue that “The Girl of Your Dreams” isn’t just Cryner’s finest piece of writing, but that it rivals the very best of Matraca Berg, Mary Chapin Carpenter, and Rosanne Cash. It begs for Trisha Yearwood to cover it:
So what happened after that second album faded into obscurity? How could a songwriting talent like this get lost in the shuffle? Well, it didn’t happen right away. After Morgan covered “You’d Think He’d Know Me Better”, Cryner surfaced as a writer on albums by top-tier female artists.
The most high profile of these three came after Cryner left a demo in Yearwood’s mailbox that simply had the title, “Real Live Woman.” Yearwood later commented that she prayed before listening to it that it would live up to that title. It did, and ended up being Cryner’s biggest hit when Yearwood took it into the top twenty:
Suzy Bogguss took the compelling story song “Nobody Love, Nobody Gets Hurt” to #63 in 1998, titling her album after it as Yearwood did with “Real Live Woman” in 2000.
Finally, Lee Ann Womack included “Stronger Than I Am” on her smash album I Hope You Dance. It finds a woman in awe of her young daughter who seems so much stronger than she is.
After that, I have no idea what happened to this woman. Do you? In an era when country music isn’t made for adults, or even by adults, this woman’s contributions are desperately needed.
Josh Turner’s an excellent singer. 
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