Singer/songwriter/fiddler Carrie Rodriguez's sophomore solo album is substantially different from its predecessor in a few key ways. First, ex-employer Chip Taylor, who was a considerable presence on her first disc, having written or co-written the majority of the songs, is now gone in all but spirit. Carrie Rodriguez picks up the slack by co-writing all but one tune, calling in ringers like ex-Jayhawks frontman Gary Louris and producer Malcolm Burn, both of whom also contribute instrumentally. Additionally, for better or worse, Rodriguez only plays fiddle on three tunes, sticking with tenor guitar and mandolin on seven others. While there's nothing wrong with that, it's like having a great quarterback only hand off the ball instead of passing it. Interestingly, one of those tunes, "Absence," is an album highlight. Co-written with artistic soulmate Mary Gauthier, it taps into a dark, spooky backwoods vibe that's both natural and haunting. The focus is on Rodriguez's voice, a pleasant, often affecting trill that has lost some of its Suzanne Vega-like comparisons since the last effort, but remains evocative and perfect for this predominantly atmospheric follow-up. Producer Burn, who knows atmospherics due to his work on Emmylou Harris' Wrecking Ball and with Chris Whitley, brings his mojo, and the combination works well. Rodriguez goes for a hit with the title cut, a pleasant if commercially driven ditty that wouldn't sound out of place on contemporary country radio, which is likely the driving force behind it. But Rodriguez is better when she lurks between the cracks of country and folk, as she does on the majority of this set. The stripped-down "Let Me In" features standup bass, muted drums, spooky, sparse guitar chords, and Rodriguez singing sultry lines such as "Tell me what gets you off/I don't mind if it's hard or soft." Touring companion Lucinda Williams adds vocals to "Mask of Moses," bringing her sense of drama and intensity to an already riveting tune with religious overtones that builds to a dynamic climax. Like most subtle albums, these songs don't jump out, preferring to float around your brain. Repeated spins result in the drifting melodies, introspective lyrics, and Burn's slow-burn production getting under your skin and taking hold. While not as immediately accessible as her debut, She Ain't Me reveals its charms slowly yet effectively, and is the better for it. ~ Hal Horowitz, All Music Guide
On her debut solo album after three duo records with Chip Taylor, singer/songwriter and fiddle player Carrie Rodriguez offers a mixture of her diverse musical background, which is rooted in Southwest country and blues styles but also boasts a sophistication nurtured at the Berklee College of Music. Rodriguez tends to de-emphasize her fiddle work in favor of an ensemble sound and her own singing, which employs a rural Southern accent that is liable to remind listeners of Lucinda Williams. Unlike Williams, however, she is more interested in setting moods and creating musical textures than in rocking out. Her songs tend to be taken at a slow tempo, with lots of interaction between musicians including guitarist Bill Frisell and pedal steel player Greg Leisz. The title track, which leads off the album, is typical. It oozes along, with impressionistic lyrics that Rodriguez intones with lazy, sinuous phrasing, building up to a head of steam that is then dissipated as the track gives way to a free jazz horn solo. Rodriguez is in touch with basic Southwest styles, and she even takes on Tex-Mex, sawing her way through "Never Gonna Be Your Bride," the uptempo second track. But, loose and apparently offhand as the playing can be, it often reveals players with considerable chops. This is not playing down, exactly, but there is a degree of deception going on, and Rodriguez is the chief culprit, frequently displaying more musical complexity than music this rootsy usually features. That makes Seven Angels on a Bicycle an accomplished introduction. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide