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Mandy Barnett is a Nashville thrush with word-of-mouth ecstatic
enough to make anyone out of the loop suspicious--especially after
her well-reviewed, technically proficient 1996 debut stalled well
short of worldwide renown. Really, so what if she was then taken up
by comeback-minded biz tastemonger Seymour Stein and produced by
washed-up countrypolitan legend Owen Bradley? I've Got a Right To
Cry (Sire), that's what: a delectable Pop-with-a-capital-P triumph
whether it sells or not. All cushy strings and corny choruses,
plinking piano and twanging guitar, countrypolitan is as retro as
lounge even if it avoids that unhealthy hipster pallor. But in this
version, slightly speeded up and touched with genuine swing, it's
made for the easy range and creamy tang of Barnett's gorgeous young
voice. Anyone with a weakness for Kay Starr or Patsy Cline won't
believe it when they hear Barnett lay some loving on the perky
chestnuts and newly designed weepers that grace this thematically
unified work of art, which opens with the title tune and closes
with one called Don't Forget To Cry.
The reissue moguls at Rhino rub hip hop's long history as a singles
music in our faces on the shameless Millennium Hip-Hop Party--18
crossover smashes that are all upbeat, all ingratiating, and mostly
great records. Sometime sanitary (Bust a Move, Parents Just Don't
Understand), sometimes not (Humpty Dance, Baby Got Back),
they're so catchy you could play every one for Garth Brooks's birthday
bash. Afterwards, having reminded Garth that rap is big fun, move
on to Soundbombing II (Rawkus), which compiles an impressive
barrage of "underground" tracks. They're all high-energy, all
confrontational, and, from Eminem on down, often pretty great
themselves. Don't-try-this-at-home line of the year: "Fuck it if
I'm gonna die at least I shot the mayor."
Playboy, May 1999
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Apr. 1999 |
June 1999 |
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