Julie Roberts Albums (2)
What The Critics Say
Although country stars generally do not write their own songs, the songs they choose from the Nashville publishing houses reveal something about the musical personas they are trying to project, even if all they say is, "I want to have a hit." Julie Roberts actually participated in the writing of four of the songs on her second album, not having had any creative input into its predecessor. But whether she is picking from the available demos or forging her own efforts with the help of others, it's clear what she is trying to project: heartbreak. She is the first to admit this, noting in the press biography accompanying advance copies of Men & Mascara, "I enjoy writing sad songs. If somebody brings in a happy idea, I like them if they are not too, too happy. Sometimes I'll say, 'That is just too happy for me.'" Roberts' tendency toward the dark side jibes well with her vocal quality, which has a torn, ragged, emotional edge that underscores the unhappiness in the lyrics. Her affinity for emotional turmoil is what causes the comparisons to Bonnie Raitt and Shelby Lynne instead of the sweet Faith Hill or the rowdy Gretchen Wilson, and gives her appeal beyond Nashville. And she plays to that affinity over and over on Men & Mascara, which certainly doesn't contain any songs that are too, too happy. Even when something positive is being described, as in "Smile" and "Too Damn Young," there is more than a suggestion of trouble. And the rest of the time, trouble is the main topic of conversation, as Roberts sings -- in the voices of women who are romantically obsessed -- to and about men who aren't worthy of them. "Men and mascara always run," she notes in the title song, and that's pretty much the way that the male sex is portrayed in song after song; "She was looking for love, he was looking for fun" is the song's other key line. Even realizing this, Roberts' women can't help themselves. The best they can do is to try to resist taking up with married men until they're sure they've left their wives ("A Bridge That's Burning") or try to escape a bad relationship by leaving town for parts unknown ("First to Never Know"). The only apparently worthy lover is the absent one in the heartrending album closer, "All I Want Is You," and the conditional verb tense ("Everyone says, 'Move on'/That is what you would want") suggests that he may have left the singer a widow. If all of this sounds like old-fashioned female victim music, Roberts invests these women with dignity amidst their troubles and, forced to sing powerfully over producer Byron Gallimore's aggressive arrangements and loud music mix, she gives them a toughness, no matter how dire their circumstances. The result is a Nashville country album that transcends the usual clichés to a remarkable extent. ~ William Ruhlmann, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
It would have been a snap for Luke Lewis and the Mercury braintrust to craft Julie Roberts into a contemporary country songbird and smother her in gooey, soulless gloss. Instead, Roberts' eponymous debut never overdoes anything, relying on an easygoing ramble instead of running the Music City hat race. Roberts is beautiful, to be clear about it. But in her choice of song and style of singing, the South Carolina native keeps things gorgeously simple. "Aw, this old thing?" her bluesy phrasing says. But there's also a wink, like she knows just how good she is. Opener "You Ain't Down Home" takes a flashy city boy to task, and showcases Roberts' Bonnie Raitt sass. It also establishes guitarist Brent Rowan's evenhanded production, which allows for a marketable studio sheen, but lets the grit get through, too. The snare is crisp, the guitars ride shotgun, and the background vocals of Wes Hightower (and Vince Gill on a couple of tracks) are full of warmth. Delbert McClinton stops by as a supporting vocalist, too, riffing on the nothin' but each other story line in the fun country rocker "No Way Out." Roberts is great on the single "Break Down Here" -- she moves the track along with a mixture of anger and hope, and sells its desperation better than Trace Adkins did on his Comin' on Strong record. Her twangy vocals set the songs' scenes throughout the album, with support from whatever instruments are needed to make the mood work. In "Pot of Gold," an accordion lends a cheery storybook lilt to Roberts' romantic contentment. However, a few songs later she's sleeping in her makeup and talking to the bottle, hooking up with a stranger and waking up older, missing the one she really loves. There's a little of Shelby Lynne's achy resignation layered into Julie Roberts' music, even if the surface is accessible as Faith Hill. The melancholy ballad "Rain on a Tin Roof" could've exploded with keening strings and enormous, fluttering-hand singing. It never does. Rowan's quiet soloing supports Roberts and Hightower's harmony as an introspective piano mirrors the song's downpour patter -- the song's self-control is admirable, and emblematic of the offhanded determination of Julie Roberts' wonderful debut. ~ Johnny Loftus, All Music Guide
