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.
“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.
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 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.
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.
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.”