What if you got your grandma a huge plasma screen TV, progressive scan DVD changer with 6-speaker 200 watt stereo surround sound, TiVo and a lifetime subscription to Netflix?
You know exactly what would happen. You'd show up on Saturdays, mow half her lawn then hang out watching The Matrix while she sits smiling politely beside you. After a few hours she'd say "How interesting" and offer you a snack.
The metaphor may be weak but I think I'm in the neighborhood. Jack White of White Stripes glory lends his feedback friendly ear to an album of almost-instant-classics by Butcher Hollow's pride and joy. There are so many reasons why this is a great idea - insert a classic country icon into the resurgent Americana scene, freshen up her fan-base to include tattooed hipsters and generally younger fans, breathe new life into an often predictable Grand Ole sound. Plus it would be fun, right? Lucky fo us it is, and it's good enough to be my pick to win Best Country Album at the Grammies this year.
The sound is generally plugged in, punched up and hung loose - what you'd expect if Jack & Meg played country riffs instead of the sonic blues. But this isn't a Stripes album with special guest Loretta Lynn, make no mistake. Lynn's presence in each song is commanding, as if her voice is her very identity and all else swirls inward toward her. White and company work hard to sound as confident but neither rock'n'roll swagger nor supposed country humility can match true cultural royalty, and her's is on full display. She delivers stirring performances of heart-strung songs that sound like they've been neatly folded in an oak chest all these years - crisp, touching, unfaded and treasured. Some of this poignancy is driven by the spark of collaboration, the friction between new and traditional sounds justifying the project completely. Other times, mostly when Jack sings, it is in detriment. But the whole outweighs the parts and Loretta Lynn carries it all effortlessly. No wonder this album made so many year-end top ten lists.
