Not long after its official origins in the early 1900's, country music quickly began to endure the vicious cycle of having its authenticity tainted by commercial compromise, then redeemed, however fleetingly, by some "underground" roots movement. And it's a relief to hear so many of those redeeming qualities in the voice of Laura Cantrell, a city gal who celebrates country tradition in her music even as she augments it.
Cantrell reclaims the essence of country songwriting, but she also puts subtle twists on familiar slice-of-life songs about whiskey drinkin', relationships gone sour, livin' on the road, and simple girl-wants-boy longing. Her music, whether inherently sad or jubilant, is always delivered with convincing sincerity. She's also not afraid to explore uncomfortable psychological truths in intimate and eloquent detail. Such affecting down-home realism, of course, is always glossed over by the homogenous evil of the "new" Nashville country. But contrary to country tradition, Cantrell sings no songs about blowing away her spouse with a shotgun 'cause she loved him. It's just not her style.
Anyone who's heard Cantrell's weekly WFMU New Jersey radio show, "Thrift Shop Radio," knows she has impeccable taste in country songwriters. On Not the Tremblin' Kind, she chooses to filter great songs by George Usher, Amy Allison, and Joe Flood through her supple vocal cords. And although her own writing talents are evident, this album contains only four originals-- the standout, "Queen of the Coast," is a tear-jerker about a small-town singer whose vague dreams of stardom succumb to routine, old age, and bungled marriages.
Comparisons to a young Dolly Parton or Kitty Wells seem justified enough, as Cantrell possesses a heartbreakingly sweet voice without being cloying in the way, say, Olivia Newton-John was during her frightening early 70's country phase. True, Cantrell may not have the voluminous pipes of a powerhouse vocalist like Tammy Wynette or Rosanne Cash, but we're not talking about the feeble peep of some Dixie Chick here, either.
In fact, on "The Whiskey Makes You Sweeter," Cantrell floors with her lilting phrasing-- singing of the strange aphrodisiac effects of that favorite country-song libation. This could easily be an answer to Loretta Lynn's "Don't Come Home a Drinkin' (with Lovin' on Your Mind)." A Byrdsy 12-string flourish prefaces "Do You Ever Think of Me?," which is more a conventional 60's pop tune than anything else, with its lively, un-country Farfisa lines bouncing around the verses. The title track could be the anti-"Stand by Your Man," considering defiant sentiments like: "You want me to get down on my knees, and beg for just a little sympathy/ You want me to go to bed defeated and resigned/ Oh, no, I'm not the tremblin' kind."
Then there's the rousing country-rock of "Pile of Woe," whose bright orange sunrise chords and uptempo rhythms reinforce faint hope of deliverance from the world's misery: "This whole world's a mess a trouble," she sings, just before that great refrain, "But I'm lookin' out for rain in every grain of hope I sow, plowin' this pile of woe." Pure gen-u-wine country-fried poe'try, friend.
Instead of applying the old-school production ethic of distancing the singer's voice with lonesome reverb, producer Jay Sherman-Godfrey lays off the effects board and goes for stark intimacy. This approach accentuates and isolates Cantrell's voice, so that at times, you get a sense of her delivery being tentative, as if she's unsure of her range. Ultimately, though, this heightened vulnerability seems to work in Cantrell's favor: even her slight vocal inadequacies become endearing after awhile.
And too bad Cantrell couldn't employ multi-instrumentalist Jon Graboff's weepy steel guitar more often. His style is lifted right off Sweetheart of the Rodeo and could've made up for the less-than-inspired electric guitar. Graboff also turns in some impressive Doc Watson-style acoustic flatpicking. And his ubiquitous mandolin playing is as easy on the ears as Cantrell's singing, as its accompanying melodies frolic endlessly behind the vocals. For the most part, Not the Tremblin' Kind features the sort of instrumentation and arrangement you'd find on the most classic of traditionalist country albums-- the focus being mainly on the voice and lyrics, with unobtrusive acoustic guitar and mandolin carrying most of the lead instrumental duties.
But again, this is not 50's Nashville or even the 60's Bakersfield sound being faithfully updated. The spirit of Gram Parsons, and the influence of other country-rock innovators like Emmylou Harris can be heard as well, as Cantrell juggles her neo-hillbilly roots (hell, she was actually born in Nashville) with her more cosmopolitan pop/rock instincts. Although not a flawless album, Not the Tremblin' Kind can still measure up pretty well to most of the revered alt-country releases of the last decade: albums such as Freakwater's Old Paint, the Blood Oranges' Corn River, and Victoria Williams' Loose. And it damn sure beats any neo-country slop Son Volt, the Jayhawks or the Handsome Family could ever shovel up, no matter how hard those college-rockers try to sound hick.
