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To me, the idea that reverence for the past is now country music'sofficial wave of the future doesn't seem like a paradox. It seems likea load of shit. Neotraditionalism, shmeotraditionalism--countryartists have always invited their audiences to escape the present;self-righteous purism is merely their latest gimmick. As always, theysometimes escape the present in entertaining or even revelatoryways. But up against the latest from Randy Travis, Dwight Yoakam andSteve Earle, I'll take the work of two nonpurists whose devotion totheir druthers predates this fad.
Like Linda Ronstadt, Barbara Mandrell and Travis, Rosanne Cash is acountry-rooted interpreter who can cross over. Unlike them, she'sJohnny's daughter, she writes some and she has a lot of guts. Hertough resolve gives her basically conventional good voice itspersonality--and lets her kick offKing's Record Shop(Columbia) with "Rosie Strike Back," good advice for battered wivesthat all too many country fans need in 1987. Cash has much more goingfor her than simple integrity, and if nothing else on the album equalsits lead cut, that's high praise for the song.
Like Earle, Yoakam and Charlie Daniels, Joe Ely is a honky-tonkman. Unlike them, he has never pretended that country was his firstlove. Ely is a butt-kicking rock-'n'-roller who, with contributionsfrom Austin buddy Butch Hancock, has recorded more ace lyrics over thepast decade or so than any country-tinged performer this side of ElvisCostello. OnLord of the Highway (HighTone), thegiveaway is "My Baby Thinks She's French": "She plays Spanishguitar/At the coffee bar/She's takin' self-defense." Guarantee youYoakam and Earle (maybe not Daniels) know women like that. They'rejust too fucking pure to admit it.
Playboy, Nov. 1987
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