Shelby Lynne Albums (9)
'Just a Little Lovin''
Release Date 1/29/2008
Tracks 20
Label Lost Highway
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Shelby Lynne has followed her own sometimes reckless, always adventuresome muse throughout her career. Just a Little Lovin' is her personal homage to the late, legendary Dusty Springfield. Nine of its ten cuts are inextricably linked to the late British vocalist whose sway Lynne came under years ago, but a chance conversation with Barry Manilow -- of all people -- led to the making of this record. Lynne doesn't attempt to sound like Springfield. She uses her own phrasing and rhythmic sensibility. Four cuts here come from the Dusty in Memphis period, as well as the title track to The Look of Love and some of her mid-'60s British hits that were not released in America. All these songs, with the exception of the self-penned "Pretend," were recorded by Springfield. The album was recorded in the Capitol Records studio with Frank Sinatra's microphone and producer Phil Ramone. Lynne's aesthetic sense serves her well: most singers automatically shoot for "Son of a Preacher Man," but Lynne steers clear. She does, however, tackle some truly monolithic Springfield hits: "Just a Little Lovin'," "Breakfast in Bed," "Willie and Laura Mae Jones," and "I Don't Want to Hear It Anymore." Lynne's readings are close, intimate. They're understated but more direct. Ramone used a small quartet in guitarist Dean Parks, keyboardist Rob Mathes, drummer Gregg Field, and bassist Kevin Axt to give her that edge. Lynne's delivery takes these songs straight to the listener's belly. The taut but easy sensuality in her voice adds a very different dimension to them. When she gets to the in-the-pocket feel of "Breakfast in Bed," she comes at the tune's subject with an up-front sexual expression -- Springfield's trademark vulnerability is willfully absent. A Rhodes and Parks' guitar give her plenty of room to pour out the lyric. "Willie and Laura Mae Jones" has a rough, swampy earthiness; Lynne adds her guitar to its sparse, slow growl. Springfield recorded this tome about interracial love when the subject was taboo in America. She made it palatable with her innocent delivery. Lynne gets at Tony Joe White's lyric with a bluesy toughness expressing incredulity toward injustice. Randy Newman's "I Don't Want to Hear It Anymore" carries inside it the trace of both Lynne's Southern homeland and her adopted West Coast residency. She can tell this heartbreaking tale as if it were her own while uncannily recalling Springfield's empathy. Signature Springfield pieces such as "I Only Want to Be with You" are astonishing for their contrast. The bubbly, poppy original version is slowed here; it offers the impression of genuine surprise by an unsuspecting protagonist. The jazzy piano and Parks' lush guitar lines entwine perfectly. Springfield's version of "The Look of Love" has remained unchallenged for more than 40 years. Lynne doesn't even try. Instead she offers tribute. It's not as sultry as the original was, but feels honest and hungry in stripping off the lyric's mask with her voice. "How Can I Be Sure" by the Rascals -- cut as a British-only single by Springfield -- is startling: Lynne sings it accompanied only by Parks' guitar. It's a radical but fitting closer. Just a Little Lovin' is the finest tribute Springfield has ever received on tape. That such a fine singer and songwriter interpreted her in such an empathic and sophisticated manner is respect personified. Ramone's care with the project is, as usual, celebratory. The multidimensional persona Lynne usually displays on her records is still here in spades. Her diversity, confidence, and wide-ranging ability are the standard to aspire to. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Shelby Lynne has been seeking the place inside her music where everything cracks and opens for over a decade. From her Columbia Records debut, she has been writing and singing songs that seek to get underneath themselves and communicate something of the wildness, ambiguity, and emotional depth that is in the grain of her voice. Suit Yourself is a self-produced, loose, organic set of 12 new songs, ten of them originals. Suit Yourself is intimate. Recorded at home and in Nashville, Lynne 's original vocal and guitar demos were used on a part of the album, and she recorded the rest as her band played live from the floor on the Nashville tracks. That band includes Brian "Brain" Harrison on bass (and who mixed the set with Lynne); the Heartbreakers' Benmont Tench on keyboards, pedal steel and mandolin; dobro boss Robby Turner; guitarist Michael Ward; Bryan Owings on drums, and legendary swamp rock guitarist and songwriter Tony Joe White. The feel of these songs is quiet, loose, relaxed, and very immediate. Sounds of ice tinkling in glasses, private conversations, session directions, encouragement, and all manner of whispers and laughter shimmy through the grooves here -- but these informal moments, which seem to exist outside the songs -- inform them the most. The up-tempo, rocking R&B that kicks everything off on "Go With It" is preceded by a conversation and a broken take of the bridge. When the song begins in earnest, Lynne and her band take no prisoners. The guitars ring and shimmer playing staccato against the rhythm section. It's followed by the slow, simmering acoustic paean "Where Am I Now" that feels like it could have been written by a Zen Master: "...Telling's just talking that turns into speeches/Doesn't aid the body with the hand that reaches/Stumble in the void to find there's no one there." "I Cry Everyday" fuses R&B and country-soul like the strands of a cord wrapped around Lynne's voice. Likewise the slippery, back-porch blues rag of "You're the Man" that feels like an open sky on a summer day. The personal manifesto at the heart of "I Won't Die Alone" is one of the finest songs Lynne has ever written, full of resilience fueled by a shuffling rock & roll rhythm, pulsed by brushes on snare and tom-toms in a near military march. And then there's "Johnny Met June," a speculative love song like no other -- it serves as both an elegy and a hymn for the possible, where acoustic guitars ring softly at first, reflectively, but as her tale of sorrow unfolds it transforms itself into a song that is virtually instructive in its meditation on death and reunion; it's full of joy placing love outside the realm of the time-space continuum. Lynne and band also cover a pair of Tony Joe White's tunes. There's a whispering version of his broken-heart ballad "Old Time' Sake, that in Lynne's voice becomes an entirely new song. And then there's the uncredited final track (titled "Track 12"): a cover of "Rainy Night in Georgia," that contains all the passion, elegance and restraint Lynne can muster, proving once again her masterful ability as an interpreter. It's smoky, bluesy, low-lit, and simmers with a passion that bubbles just under the surface of the tune. Suit Yourself is aptly named, Lynne dressed herself this time out with great players and finely wrought songs, and put it all together on her own. This is her finest moment yet. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
In giving Shelby Lynne's Identity Crisis even a cursory listen one has to ask the question as to whether the titles of Love, Shelby and this one were reversed by accident. While Love, Shelby, produced by Glen Ballard, was a schizoid mess of R&B, rock, and whatever, Identity Crisis is a deeply focused yet wildly adventurous look at American roots and popular musics as processed by Lynne, who is in top songwriting, vocal, and production shape here. Acting as her own producer with help from mixing engineer Bruce Robb, Lynne has penned 12 tough songs that showcase her true gift for lyricism and melody and display the real reach of her vocal prowess on a series of rootsy, souled-out -- sometimes psychedelic -- rockers and pop tunes. The sheer rock & roll abandon of "Gotta Get Better" could have been recorded by Beck, whereas the shimmering, down-tempo folkiness of "I Don't Think So," with gorgeous Fender Rhodes touches by Billy Payne of Little Feat, is harrowing in its heartbroken candor and seductive with its sultry melody that crosses Dusty Springfield with Scott Walker. Elsewhere, such as on the loopy, funky B-3-drenched "I'm Alive," Sheryl Crow's dark side meets the razor-sharp lyric sensibilities of John Mellencamp's Scarecrow-era material. But then, on "Lonesome," the classic countrypolitan-style honky tonk of Owen Bradley with Patsy Cline, or Chet Atkins with Connie Smith comes flowing through like honey in a sieve. The easy bluesy swing -- à la Ma Rainey and Bessie Smith -- on "Buttons and Beaus" is a something Bonnie Raitt might have recorded in the early '70s, if she had a razor's-edge delivery and skewed sense of humor. The tough, acoustic Chicago blues colored by a B-3 makes a standout of "Evil Man." The Tin Pan Alley-meets-Donovan touch on "One With the Sun" makes it the perfect closer, a loopy love song with clever lyrics, pastoral, romantic strings, and a melody that comes from timeless American pop music. Suffice to say, that while Lynne's career has produced many fine recordings -- I Am Shelby Lynne from 2000 being a recent case in point -- Identity Crisis is easily the most consistent record she had released since Tough All Over in 1990, and is without a doubt the most moving, ambitious, and elegant album of her career thus far. She sets a new standard for singers and songwriters with this collection, making it a candidate for any serious Top Ten of 2003. There is no identity crisis here, just the indelible mark of a mature, intense, always engaging artist. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
After years of kicking around Nashville to great acclaim but nonexistent sales, Shelby Lynne got fed up with the system and reinvented herself on I Am Shelby Lynne as a tough and sexy singer, equal parts Bonnie Raitt and Sheryl Crow. Though this album is undeniably classicist in approach, borrowing from classic R&B, country, soul, and rock & roll, it's cleverly constructed, as producer Bill Bottrell gives it a wonderful, warm production graced by slight contemporary flourishes (such as the rolling rhythms behind "Thought It Would Be Easier") that keep it fresh, not entrenched in history (even though its succinct ten tracks and half-hour running time are welcome holdovers from classic rock). Ultimately, of course, the triumph of the record belongs to Lynne, who finally sounds comfortable in her writing and voice. This music is so warm and welcoming, it's easy to overlook the darker themes running through the songs, particularly because Lynne's greatest strength is that she never oversings, shading her phrasing and drawing listeners in with her easy confidence and sexy rasp. This isn't an album that flaunts its strengths -- it's expertly constructed, subtle music that grows in stature with each spin, revealing Lynne as a trad rocker of uncommon skill and charm. It may have taken her years to finally find her groove, but I Am Shelby Lynne is so good, the wait seems worthwhile. ~ Stephen Thomas Erlewine, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
The Curb reissue of Shelby Lynne's 1995 album, Restless, is a compelling one. While Lynne has undergone almost continual -- and mostly positive -- reinvention since she resurfaced with I Am Shelby Lynne in 2000, it's interesting to hear her on this Brent Maher-produced slab of swinging-for-the-charts commercial country. Of course, her voice is a trademark; whether she's singing the new traditionalist honky tonk of Maher's own "Another Chance at Love," Jamie O'Hara's weeper "Talkin' to Myself Again," or the jazzy country-pop that is Rod McGaha's "I Wish I Knew," the commitment to excellence is total. But these tracks, fine as they are, offer no revelation of Lynne's true "restlessness," which resides in her own R&B-tinged hard country shuffle "Slow Me Down" and in the numbers she wrote with Maher and O'Hara, including the title cut, the Western swing of "Reach for the Rhythm," and the hot jazz gypsy swing of "Swingtown," which closes the set. Here, Lynne reveals in spades that her voice has no limitations when it comes to reaching for the margins in classic American music. She can sing jazz, blues, and R&B, and rock a honky tonk with the best of them. In its day, Restless was dismissed as gimmicky for its stubborn refusal to follow "the format." History has vindicated Shelby Lynne. That this set would get a second chance when so many of the recordings of her contemporaries have long since been deleted or hit the buck bin is proof of the album's elusive yet enduring excellence. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Shelby Lynne is nobody's fool. Since 1990's Tough All Over, this artist has defiantly resisted any attempt to pigeonhole her, and has fought record labels tooth and nail to make the kind of records she wanted to -- even if they weren't commercially viable. Temptation is a case in point. While Tough All Over -- a contemporary country groundbreaker and a classic record in anybody's book -- scored big and Soft Talk netted a couple of mid-level hit singles, nothing could have prepared fans of her first three records for 1993's Temptation. Produced by Brent Maher, whose work with the Judds earned him recognition, the album was Lynne's first for Morgan Creek/Mercury, after leaving Epic a year earlier. What is so utterly startling about the disc is that, while the cover photo features a short-haired, sultry-looking Lynne, who appeared as if straight from a Vogue photo shoot, the music is hardcore jacked-up Western swing and big-band country, featuring a full-on orchestra of the size Bob Wills hired at his zenith -- this one contains an eight-piece horn section, pedal steel, fiddle (of course), guitars galore, bass, and drums. With arrangements by Buddy Skipper, the disc is equally balanced between uptempo finger-popping Western swing and hillbilly boogie and killer jazzed-up country ballads that Patsy Cline would have been hungry to sing in her transition years. What's more, Maher and Lynne (separately) wrote the lion's share of the album, with one track each from John Jarvis and Rory Michael Bourke. The title track opens the set and it roars out of the gate swaggering, with killer male chorus backing vocals done in call-and-response style, a fiddle solo, and burning horns. The midtempo strut of "Feelin' Kind of Lonely Tonight," with its honky tonk piano, waves of horns, and Lynne's upfront sassy vocal, is the kind of jazzy "good girl about to go bad" number that will get the punters on the dancefloor as well. But in the ballads, with their blues roots (like in "Tell Me I'm Crazy" and the closer, "Where Do We Go from Here"), one can hear traces of Peggy Lee in front of a polished Ray Charles Orchestra orchestrated and produced by Owen Bradley. Jarvis' "I Need a Heart to Come Home To" is a country song that feels a little like Eric Kaz's "Love Has No Pride," and Lynne's big throaty contralto digs right into the blues in the tune even as the fiddle and pedal steel whine. The jump and swing tunes work best, though, like the title cut, "Don't Cry for Me," and Lynne's "Some of That True Love," all of which are memorable burners. This is a sadly overlooked recording that deserves reexamination in light of the wide berth of styles that contemporary country welcomes within its ranks -- it's hip, sassy, and tough. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Defiant, emotionally draining country. Contains "The Very First Lasting Love," a duet with former Exile member Les Taylor. ~ Bil Carpenter, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Before Shelby Lynne reinvented herself at the end of the 1990s and began recording for Mercury, she made a number of fine recordings that were unfortunately lost in the heap of "new traditionalist" and female superstar recordings that were popping out of Nash Vegas like zits. This 1990 effort, produced by the great Bob Montgomery, is a case in point. Not only does this hold up to her best work, it's at the very least on a par with Kathy Mattea, Trisha Yearwood, Martina McBride, etc. It just isn't a strictly country outing, but it's a truly fine pop-country record. Interestingly, it also has the range of her later records. While there are songs here from the then-current crop of Nash Vegas song churners, like the opener, "I'll Lie Myself to Sleep," there are also cuts like the gorgeous gentle Western swing of "Don't Mind if I Do," by the legendary Skip Ewing. The tune borrows as much from Billie Holiday's "Ain't Nobody's Business" as it does from early Bonnie Raitt and Maria Muldaur. And then there's a burning, hard-rocking cover of Charlie Rich's early hit "Lonely Weekends." It's more Dixie-fried than Rich's version, but it comes across as a thoroughly contemporary country-rock song with ringing guitars à la the Doobie Brothers' Toulouse Street, an Elvis-styled delivery, and a piano shuffle in the background that keeps the lyric from sinking under the weight of a cooking band. Wayne Carson's "Dog Day Afternoon" sounds like a latter-day Rich number, or one Tom Waits wrote for Crystal Gayle for the One from the Heart soundtrack; it's all jazzy, warm, and sensual. If there were any doubts about Lynne's country pedigree, it vanishes when her radical working of "I Walk the Line" comes through the speakers. Bluesy, shuffling, and the slightest bit funky, her sense of Cash's melody remains untouched. The set ends with another Western swing-influenced nugget, but this one comes from Duke Ellington, "Don't Get Around Much Anymore," before it breaks out into a full-blown Patsy Cline country-jazz tune. She saved the best moment for last here, and it is so original in its swinging elegance that listeners can only wonder if she might have taken the Diana Krall route, in that she not only has the pipes and the chops, but the feel for this material. Tough All Over is wonderful from start to finish. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Lynne's debut album, released when she was barely out of her teens, contains a duet with George Jones called "If I Could Bottle This Up." ~ Brian Mansfield, All Music Guide
