DOLLY PARTON, Backwoods Barbie
At 62, with all hope of radio airplay far behind her, Dolly Parton is still making great country music. Backwoods Barbie, her first mainstream album in a decade, includes one certifiable gem (Craig Wiseman and Betsy Ulmer’s “Jesus & Gravity”), two unlikely covers (Fine Young Cannibals’ “Drives Me Crazy” and Smokey Robinson’s “The Tracks of My Tears”), and nine new songs by Dolly, with only one (“Better Get to Livin’”) making any concessions to today’s market. The rest sound like classic Dolly Parton, with hopeless romantics (“Somebody’s Everything”), lonely wives (“Only Dreamin’”), cheating husbands (“Made of Stone”), and women scorned (“Shinola”). It’s a great lesson in how to make three-chord country songs come to life, especially old-fashioned heartbreakers “Made of Stone,” with its layered guitars by Tom Bukovac, Paul Franklin, Biff Watson, and Kent Wells, and “I Will Forever Hate Roses,” anchored with period perfection by Nashville cats Lloyd Green on pedal steel and Pig Robbins on piano. The performances here are beautifully outsized, delivering an aching vulnerability with an iconic, larger-than-life persona, and the songwriting remains strong as ever. Even now, still fighting to be taken seriously as a writer, she remains focused on the craft itself—not the makeup. “I’m just a backwoods Barbie in a push-up bra and heels,” she sings in yet another song about growing up poor while dreaming of a better life. “I might look artificial, but where it counts I’m real.” (Dolly Records, dollypartonmusic.net)
—KENNY BERKOWITZ
NELS ANDREWS, Off-Track Betting
Like the restless hero of Into the Wild, Andrews spent years following his own winding road from Alaska to New Mexico. On his second record, this former carpenter from Albuquerque chronicles the small-town and big-city fringes with cinematic imagery that rolls out like a blue-sky drive through the desert. Strong vocal hooks and classic chord progressions form the core of every song. But like Lyle Lovett, Andrews upends folk conventions by sneaking surprising details between the familiar elements. Though pedal steel, accordion, and traditional tools of twang are used to set a southwestern scene, on songs like “Sunday Shoes,” Andrews and producer Todd Sickafoose (Ani DiFranco) layer harp and klezmer banjos to add eerie atmosphere to a single chord pulsing on acoustic guitar. Looping melodies roll through the background like tumbleweeds. Metal hammers clang out a backbeat in the distance as if you're driving past Tom Waits’s Bone Machine band rehearsing in a metal foundry. But on more straightforward Americana ballads like “Shoot Out the Stars,” his husky southern drawl sounds more like a weary Ryan Adams. Unlike the Whiskeytown singer, Andrews’s point of view is less introspective and more journalistic. And in the end, it’s the slowly unfolding lyrical details that make this record worth repeated listens. (Reveal Records, reveal-records.com)
—DREW PEARCE
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