Miss Fortune

As album titles go, this one is unwittingly more apt than most, for Moorer’s third album is far removed from the heart-warming down-home country charm of 1998’s Alabama Song. Instead, the unfortunate woman’s been Nashvillified, corporatised and sterilised by RS Field’s predictable production to the point where she’s barely recognisable as the neo-traditional country roots performer of yore.

Yet somehow Moorer’s real talent occasionally manages to shine through the gloss and dross, especially on ‘Cold In California’, the sterling ‘Up This High’ and ‘Hey Jezebel’, the latter at least kicking ass and benefiting from David Grissom’s beefy electric organ. Grissom also adds some mean guitar to that track and others such as the Creedence-driving ‘Going Down’, helping to keep Moorer’s talents from sinking out of sight. But ‘Can’t Get There From Here’ and ‘Yessirree’ sound listless and bored. ‘Let Go’, ‘Tumbling Down’ and ‘Mark My Word’ are so middle-of-the-road they’re traffic hazards, and ‘No Place For The Heart’ is merely old-time country-pop schmaltz.

But the good wine, and the last bottle of Jack Daniels in the cupboard, are kept for the end. ‘Dying Breed’ lets Moorer apply her expressive voice to a plaintive lyric about hitting rock bottom, with an evocative instrumental break combining accordion, violin and acoustic guitar that brings a sense of real art missing from the rest of the album. Then the bonus track, the live-ish ‘Bully Jones’, brings genuine anger and despair to a song about oppressive relationships.

Somehow I reckon the demos might have been more revealing of Moorer’s real class. She deserves better than this.