Tammy Rogers "Tammy Rogers"
Dead Reckoning (49 mins)
Dial-a-track code 1641
Has the bubble burst? Suddenly the country music scene has gone all quiet the wave after wave of new Hats of 12 months ago has all but dried up. And what have we lost? In truth, not much. The main problem with much of country music is not that it is poor, but that it is so mind numbingly average.
And then along comes somebody like Tammy Rogers. A musician of real heart and no little soul, she intrigued me with In The Red, her mostly instrumental album of last year. It was essentially a showcase for her distinctive earthy fiddle playing and so her performance in Dublin earlier this year was a revelation of sorts. Sure, the playing was excellent, but it was her singing which captured the spirit of good country music, projecting a strong personality and no little musical sensitivity and touch.
As such, her first solo album is no great surprise, but it is confirmation of her emerging talent. Supported by her label pals and other like minded singers songwriters like Buddy Miller and Victoria Williams, she covers a broad emotional and stylistic range, delving into her deep knowledge of American music to pluck out gems like the robust You Can't BUY A Ticket To Heaven or the immaculate ballad, Let's Leave It Like That. At first this album sounded a little too soft, but on (mature) reflection the music generally has a quiet and elegant assurance.
The Walkabouts "Devil's Road" Virgin, 724384134921 (57 mins) Dial-a-track code 1751
Ron Sexsmith "Ron Sexsmith" Interscope, IND 92485 (43 mins) Dial-a-track code 1861
Now here's a pair of really strange albums. The Walkabouts hail from Seattle via Conny's Studio in Germany and their music hails from the wild US northwest via that typically dense European sound. There are bits of everything mixed in folk, rock, blues and lots of country. Indeed, one of my favourite tracks of this year is the countryish lament, The Leaving Kind, with Carla Torgerson's evocative doomed vocals carrying a refrain laden with the grim fruits of fate's calling. What do these language rich cloud heavy songs mean? Whatever you want is the answer, but Chris Eckman's songs certainly do have a taste of the open razor about them. Check out the U2-ish The Light Pill Stay On, Christmas Valley or the closing Forgiveness Song for conclusive evidence of a strange job well done.
But not half as odd as Ron Sexsmith's collection. This album sounds like a soundtrack to a David Lynch movie yet to be made. Sexsmith has a neat way with a lyric, which is why his record company splashes excerpts over the CD sleeve.
"The sun went down on Galbraith Street/I saw it from my childhood bed/as the read and good brick houses stood/underneath a crimson sky that bled". He also has a neat way with a beguiling melody and a remarkably disarming way of presenting his songs that could be described as country folk naivete. The recording sounds almost DIY, but clearly isn't, as it involves ace producers Mitchell Froom and Dael Lanois. Given any reasonable time Sexsmith and his intimate, tuneful songs take up quiet residence in your affections. If you have space for something warmly odd or oddly warm, then open your door.
George Strait "Blue Clear Sky"
MCA, MCD 11428 (40 mins) Dial-a-track code 1971
John Berry "Faithfully"
Capitol, 7343-8-52241 (27 mins) Dial-a-track code 2081
There is at least one amazing thing about George Strait. He's the only artist who must have toured Tir na nOg, because judging by his album covers he has ceased ageing. Unlike his music, that is. Yet this album is a pleasant surprise, for young George is seriously back on form with his mix of Texas swing and bar room tears. There is, of course, the occasional turkey, not least the inauspicious opener and title track, but as the Old Hat warms to his task the music flows and in generous measures, by country CD standards.
John Berry possesses a fine distinctive voice, full of grit and personality, but the material on this compilation for the European market is mostly overwrought hollow emotional packages. If I Had Any Pride Left At All is an exception, and a memorable one at that, but otherwise it is a classic example of where we came in the search for the middle of the road.
