Laura's site. Radio Thrift Shop. Order from amazon. Released June, '05, reviewed by Bill Frater.

Much in the style of the early Kentucky Headhunters, Atomic Horsepower is a honky-tonk, rock-a-billy sort of country that doubtlessly works much better in a live scenario than it seems to do here. Phil Veridef's trombone imparts a certain uniqueness to the sound, but, unfortunately, the Cowboys don't provide much that grabs the listener by the ears and makes one sit up and pay attention. Megan Palmer contributes some nice violin lines that enhance some of the tracks, but she can't save it all by herself. “Honky Tonk Women”, for example, starts off all right, and then, for some reason that must only make sense in a smoky roadhouse, it breaks into one of those tempo-escalating renditions that are evocative of a Ukrainian wedding dance; I guess that you'd have to be there to really appreciate it.

GRAYSON CAPPS
Wail & Ride... (Hyena)

There was an old Monty Python skit that featured a chap that felt he could become a lion-tamer because he had the right sort of hat. Grayson Capps' second solo release after 2005's If You Knew My Mind further secures his place amongst the pantheon of singer/songwriters of true grit. Unlike a lot of the ‘polished' artists who would have you believe that when they sing of the downside of life, they sing from the heart, Capps sings of the seamy underside of American life from the gut, and you can believe him or not, it's doubtful he cares. The first listen says that this guy has been down all of the back alleys of the old New Orleans, played those jukey joints and hob-nobbed with the hoi polloi . While he may no longer reside there in body, he still carries the influences of and affection for that city beside the Mississippi, most obviously on “New Orleans Waltz”. While lots of those other guys are wearing the right hats, Grayson Capps has the right stuff.

If a man can be judged by the company he keeps, then this handsome youngster's gonna be huge. Guy Clark and Ray Wylie Hubbard help him co-write a few songs and he's got guitar monster Kenny Vaughn and Alt.Country songbird Allison Moorer lending some sweet harmonies. Then he's got R.S. Field producing to give him some added obscure credibility. Of course, this all wouldn't mean shit if he didn't have some great songs and a fine expressive voice that recalls Billy Joe Shaver or the afore-mentioned Ray Wylie. This kids got it, he shines brightly on some tender finger-picked ballads and he can rock it up pretty good too. On top of that this is only his second CD. I'd say he's got a great start on the fine art of song crafting.

MARY CHAPIN CARPENTER
The Calling... (Zoe/Rounder)

Well, well, well; happy days are here again. After a hiatus of almost three years one of the best artists around has blessed us with her eleventh release. Mary Chapin Carpenter has been one of the pillars in the pantheon of female artists for a long time in my estimation, and The Calling confirms her cred. Ok, she's had the odd off-ish moment, but from the delicate piano intro of the opening title track onward, it's obvious that she's at the top of her game today. Her MO is unchanged from earlier work, with the same principle accomplices, producer/keyboardist Matt Rollings, and the incomparably fine John Jennings with his deft touches on guitar. Not many can match her ability to turn a phrase, and fewer yet can do it so damned beautifully; it almost brings tears to your eyes. Never one to back away from a fight, (remember, she “don't mind working without a net”), Carpenter hoists that hollow imposter in Washington on his own petard in “Houston”, a mournful ode to the New Orleans DPs, and in “On With The Song”, a shot to the heart, from the heart, that doesn't come from Cupid's bow. True to form however, she somehow still finds a bit of love, beauty, and hope in the sordid mess of current affairs, expressing them as only she can in the closing tracks, “Here I Am”, “Why Shouldn't We”, and “Bright Morning Star”. How good is this one? It's got me thinking Best of 2007, and it's only March, fer cryin' out loud.

ROSANNE CASH
Black Cadillac... (Capitol)

Unless one's head has been in a cardboard box these last few years past, sourcing the inspiration for this gem shouldn't be difficult. Sooner, or later, in this grand card game that we choose to call life, someone's going to slip you the queen of spades, and Cash has gotten three of them in as many years. Black Cadillac was borne from the anguish and pain that the passing of loved ones brings, but, as always, it's not so much the cards in your hand, as how you play them, that makes the difference. Exploring the passions and the questions that death brings, Rosanne, (forgive me the familiarity here; it's one of those records), plays her hand here with a degree of style and grace, nay finesse, that does more than justice to her legacy; somewhere up there, Ma and Pa must be smiling. Quiet, almost understated, this one is a tour de force that comes our way far too infrequently. I could go into a lengthy analysis of every song, there's so much here, but, I'll leave that to the individual listener, as I'm sure that this disc will speak to you somewhat differently than it does to me. Suffice it to quote a line from “Like Fugitives”: “Priest is praying for your soul, doctor for your heart; someone tell me how to live, now that we must live apart”; it sure is a “strange new world we live in”. The sun will always shine after the rain, and there's a silver lining to every cloud; it's too bad that some of the best things come from the worst, but, hey, if it doesn't beat us, it only makes us stronger. Rosanne, thanks for this one, ya done real good here girl. June, Johnny, and Viv, repositam in pacem , the kid's going to do just fine; she comes from pretty strong stuff.

I gave up on listening to any Alt. Rock years ago but somewhere I heard about this Cat Power CD. It's the working name for a woman named Chan Marshall and this is her 7 th release and she's quite popular these days on the college cult scene. I don't know anything about her earlier albums but I really like this CD. She has a very breathy voice that recalls Sinead O'Connor but it sounds like she's been listening to Dusty Springfield. In fact, like Dusty's most soulful work, The Greatest was recorded with a bunch of Memphis studio veterans. You'll hear everything from country fiddle to muted trumpet to countrypolitan piano. The sound is spare and haunting, she likes to have multiple layers of her voice hovering over her original songs. If you loved I Am Shelby Lynne then you can definitely handle this. Maybe not for your hardcore twang fan but this is great stuff that will get under your skin and never wanna leave.

Cherryholmes site. Buy from amazon Released Sept. '05. Reviewed by Michael Meehan.

LANCE CHRISTOPHER
Saved by a Woman ... (Torn Sky)

ANDRE CHRYS
Terminal Avenue... (self released)

 Best songs:  Mr. Wright, Pink Motel, The Bum You Say I Am, I Hope Tomorrow Comes real Soon, Hard Times Again. I can't find anything on the web about this guy, (you try entering Cisco in a search engine and see what you get!) and Song Search has it too. Released Sept. '98, reviewed by Bill Frater.

STEPHEN CLAIR
Under The Bed... (Valley Entertainment)

What kills troubadour Clair's second release is a sense of monotony. The songs aren't all that bad, but they all start sounding the same by the third playing, which is a bit of a shame. He has been described as a laid-back New Yorker, city, from upstate New York, state, and that laid-back bit has proven to be his undoing here. His approach to his music seems to be Ritalin or Valium inspired, producing a lackluster effect that makes all of the songs, different though they are, squeeze into a paradigm of numbing uniformity. It's high time someone stuck a burr under this guy's blankets; he could possibly put the ensuing excitement to profitable use.

GUY CLARK
Workbench Songs... (Dualtone)

It would be very difficult to come up with a better title for this, Guy Clark's tenth studio recording. If he had lived in medieval times, he would have been considered to be a master guildsman. Some people write songs; Clark builds them, with no spared attention to detail. An artist could be forgiven if he/she exhibited a slight off coming of one's edge, rested upon one's laurels, as it were, especially after thirty plus years in the game. Apparently, (and fortunately), nobody has bothered to inform Guy Clark of that, or, if someone did, he had the great good sense to discount the information. He hit his stride a long time ago, and Workbench Songs doesn't exhibit any signs that he's letting up. He takes the common and mundane passings of what the average person would perceive as an ordinary life and turns them into auditory events that are startlingly beautiful in their unadorned simplicity of execution. Anyone who is already familiar with this man, read no further, you're a convert. Anyone else, go for this one and treat yourself to what the quintessential Americana songwriter can create. AMA Lifetime Achievement Award for Songwriter last year? There's a certain aura or implication of finality to things like “Lifetime Achievement” awards; thank heavens that Clark chooses to discount that information also.

STEVE CLAWSON
Southern Soul... (Reflection)

The first listen of Steve Clawson's debut CD/EP, (at a shade over 24 minutes, I can't call it a CD), started the bells going. By the end of the seventh and final track, I had it. This young Georgian sounds a lot like Loggins & Messina from the mid-seventies, with a bit of James Taylor type introspection thrown in. Small world: his web site lists those two artists amongst his major influences. Soul is the appropriate descriptive here, with only “Golden Ring” straying into a rockier vein, from the ballad and mid-tempo mainstays, and some of these are quite good, “Lovesong Lullaby” and “I Cry Alone” particularly. He's on the record as saying that his melodies come first, and then the lyrics “take me forever”. That's good; far too often an artist hits a good riff, and then screws up the works by rushing it into production with whatever drivel happened to readily spring to mind superimposed upon it. Clawson has avoided that pitfall here; his words are intelligently crafted for more than just their ability to rhyme. Apparently he is/was a contestant on one of those ‘add water and stir' type of instant, (and fleeting), fame shows. Hopefully he escapes that sausage factory; genuine artists aren't created by the media doctors, they create themselves.

WILLY CLAY BAND
Rebecca Drive... (Blackstone/Rootsy.nu)

First off, you are going to have a devil of a time finding this one: it was gifted to me by a friend in Holland, (muchas gracias, Root), and what a wonderful gift it was/still is. I've noted before that good Americana music springs up in the damnedest places, and you can't get much farther a field than an Arctic mining town named Kiruna, in Sweden. Dig out your atlas, and you'll see what I mean. Often times bands from non-English speaking cultures experience difficulty translating their songs into meaningful English, but I'm very happy to report that that's not the case here. Initially I had difficulty digesting the fact that these guys aren't North American, they've got such a wonderful grip on the genre. The songs and vocals of Reine Tuoremma, acoustic guitar, harmonica, Bjorn Pettersson, bass, and Tony Bjorkenvall, electric and acoustic guitars, mandolin, are as pure country as it gets, (sorry about the lack of accents, guys; can't get the keyboard to do them), and the complement of Fredrik Elenius' percussive skills and Orjan Maki, on electric guitar, lap steel and dobro, makes Rebecca Drive a very fine debut CD indeed. Production duties were handled by the redoubtable Will Kimbrough in Nashville last January, and, rumour has it that they also were invited to play The Basement at the Americana Music Conference. Pick the best tunes? Sorry, no can do; they're all winners here. This is one band that has come out of the starting gate with the pedal to the metal, and they warrant your attention; definitely Top Ten; in the runnin's for CD of the Year; believe me on this one.

Chris de Burgh packs up, leaves England, and winds up in the bald-ass Canadian prairie. That's what Jim Clements sounds like, and it's an oddly intriguing sound at that. Even his more countrified songs, e.g. “So Much Confetti”, conjure up distinct images of his English roots. “I've Always Been Faithful” has a music hall ring to it, with its lilting piano lines, and “After The Flood” is vintage Strawbs. “Fletcher Christian”, well, the title alone should tell that particular tale. Maybe it's the combination of a discernable accent, and the use of a mellotron, that makes this CD so obviously rooted in ‘Merrie Olde', and the string arrangements add to that impression. Not for the true-blue country aficionado, but an interesting hybrid of Americana.

BOB CLENDENEN
Informed Gutbucket... (Mountain Shack)

Arghh! Another super short disc! Why do these guys do that to us? This one is not even half an hour long. C'mon people, think of the poor fans trying to stretch their meager resources these days. Now that the raggings done, it must be said that Clendenen, on the faculty of the California Institute of the Arts, writes folk ballads in the vein of a Pete Seeger, or even a Woody Guthrie. His songs have that everyman common touch from yesteryear to them, and his sparse instrumentation and gruff delivery only serve to heighten the aged effect. You'd have thought that, with an extensive list of composing credits, and an impressive C.V., somewheres along the way he might have taken Artist/Audience Empathy 101, and learned to, in the words of Ray Davies: “Give the people what they want”. Yeah, sure Mae West said to always leave them panting for more, but that was sex, not music. Woody would always give a guy the whole caboodle, and the correct change.

CLOTHESLINE REVIVAL
Long Gone... (Paleo Music)

They've certainly got some strange definition of Bluegrass over there in Vancouver, British Columbia. Apparently, from the sound of “London Bridge” and “Bobby Banjo”, nobody ever bothered to inform this gang that Appalachia and Jamaica aren't exactly kissin' cousins. Pleasantly and surprisingly, this is one shotgun marriage that works, and it's only one example of the musical hybrids that are to be found in this little gem. “Okay Alright” sounds like an old Blondie tune grafted onto a world-beat driven tempo, and there's evidence throughout the disc that the Celts ganged up with the Rasta force when they decided to invade the Smokey Mountains. The Clumsy Lovers, (and I'm intrigued by the potential story behind that name!), are five Canadian musicians that passed their music courses with honours, whilst cratering miserably in geography class, (sic). They're sort of to country/bluegrass what the Barenaked Ladies are to rock, cheeky, irreverent, and more than a bit iconoclastic, as in the tune that is their namesake. Purists may shudder, but this is one entertaining fusion of diverse influences.

The music industry has changed quite a bit since Jessi's last album 20 years ago. She's too old and wise to be concerned with having country radio-friendly songs these days and it's freed her to create a heartfelt masterpiece. After having lost her husband Waylon Jennings four years ago she seems to have landed on her feet and to have found a new strength and confidence. Many of these songs use spiritual imagery to bring across the feeling of hope and redemption. The beautiful gospel-sounding “Out Of the Rain” features the song's writer Tony Joe White and Waylon on vocals, who makes it feel pretty haunting. Producer Don Was should get big credit for bringing out a bluesy and gritty side of Jessi. He also drapes her ballads with a mournful cello that compliments her distinctive voice. The whole album just feels centered and holds together nicely. Welcome back Jessi, it was worth the wait.

Shout Factory's page on Jessi. Buy from Amazon  Released Feb. 2006. Reviewed by Bill Frater

DANA COOPER
Made Of Mud... (King Easy)

The standard modus operandi is to play a new CD first, without any background preamble, let those first impressions do their thing. So much for first impressions: Dana Cooper sounded like a young throwback to an early Jackson Browne/James Taylor style of artist, intelligent and melodic. It turns out, ‘though his voice belies it, that he was around in those days, recording his first solo work back in '73, and this one is his seventh solo release since then. Made Of Mud is a delightful introduction to a versatile and gifted musician, and a welcome alternative to those ‘compilations, anthologies, best ofs, etc.' that are, in most cases, sure signs of incipient creative vacuity. “Step Into The Light” is 30+ years old, and the succeeding cuts are a mini-diorama of Cooper's work up to the present that takes the listener on a journey along the higher and finer points of Highway Americana. For example, the title track, is one of best agrarian anthems to come out of a set of speakers in a long time, good company for Guthrie's “Pretty Boy Floyd”. Not a lot of fanfare and fooforaw on this one, just a lot of damn fine tunes.

What strikes you about I Watched The Devil Die is the feeling that you've walked into a room where Chris Cotton's already in business. It has an unpretentiously good feeling about it, and pulls on your imagination. Cotton writes about half the tunes here, and shows a strong feel for a driving folk blues with excellent bass-runs on the guitar. The covers draw from Skip James, Willie McTell and John Hurt, evidencing Cotton's area of investigation. He traveled down to Clarksdale, Mississippi, to record the date on vintage gear in the old WROX radio building using area talent. Big Jack Johnson guests on a cut. This is young-at-heart-wise-in-time blues, ragged but right, from a man who gives it up.

Reviewed by Bill Frater.

Best songs: Little Voice, The Son of the Neverending Night, A Man Doesn't Cry, Californis Cottonfields, Ugly Girl, A Wake to a Friend. Try ordering from the label Flying Harold Records. Released late '98, reviewed by Bill Frater.

BILL CULP
Roots‘N'Roll... (self released)