If Laura Cantrell is the sweet, prim, proper school marm of alternative country, Kasey Chambers could be her sexy, scrappy cousin. And like Cantrell’s Not the Tremblin' Kind and the O Brother, Where Art Thou soundtrack, Barricades and Brickwalls, Chambers' second album, also reflects the current interest in no-frills, grass roots American country and bluegrass music, and the fact that Chambers was born and raised in Australia doesn’t seem to make a lick of difference. Her voice is high-pitched, thin, and nasal, yet strong and capable of genuine emotion, and I can easily see why many have found it to be so captivating, although I found it a bit grating and over-affected at times.
The first two songs on the album are stark contrasts in style and content; in the title track, she snarls with bravado, “You can lock me out/You can scream and shout/But by the end of the day/I’ll take you away/Like a force 10 hurricane” backed by grinding power chords, while on the very pop-ish “Not Pretty Enough,” she pleads, “Am I too outspoken/Don’t I make you laugh/Should I try harder/Why do you see right through me.” This tug-of-war between submissive heartbreak and defiance carries into the rest of the songs as well, like “On a Bad Day” (“But on a bad day/When hearts are breaking/There’s not enough rain to carry/My tears away”) and “Runaway Train” (“I’ll drive faster/You’ll hold tighter/I’ll get wild/You’ll get wilder”).
The next track, “A Little Bit Lonesome,” is pure, delightful honky tonk, with only the “Kiss my ass” line to belie its contemporary source. This is followed by “Nullarbor Song,” a soothing acoustic tune that is pure country with a twist—it creates the feeling of being out in the Australian outback, where “dingoes howl just to break the silence,” under a sky full of stars. Although Chambers’ songs are quite suffused with images of rain, mountains, and deserts, it is in this song that her love of nature shines through most clearly.
A common, and admirable, theme throughout the songs is that if you put your emotional pain to good use, it won’t destroy you. As she sings in the very Don Henley-like “A Million Tears,” “All my life/I’ve welcomed pain/I’ve made up more excuses/To bring it back again.” “Still Feeling Blue” picks up the pace again with some lively fiddle and cathartic emoting, and the reflective mood returns in “This Mountain” (“If your heart don’t break, you won’t be free”).
Chambers seems to be having the most fun in “Crossfire,” a short, “bad to the bone” down and dirty number in which she declares, “I don’t have a heart,” then she’s all vulnerability again in “Falling Into You” (“I’ve been scared of sleeping/In case I wake up the same”).
The album ends with the gentle rollick of “If I Were You” and reverent duet “I Still Pray” with Paul Kelly, whose gentle tenor compliments Chambers’ voice beautifully. It’s a hint of real talent, and I’d like to hear more from him. Then, following about a minute of silence, a “hidden track” (which isn’t all that hidden since lyrics are provided) pops up in which she preaches, “If you’re not pissed off at the world/Then you’re just not paying attention.” It’s a dreary, plodding tune whose lyrics read like the most pedestrian high school poetry:
We don’t talk to our neighbours/They’ve got funny coloured skin/We see’em out on the sidewalk/But we don’t invite ‘em in/We only eat when we’re hungry/And we throw the rest away/While babies in Cambodia/Are starving everyday.
Overall, Barricades and Brickwalls paints a broad spectrum of alt.country/ bluegrass/honkytonk music, and that variety is its greatest strength. Many of the songs, however, would benefit from a shorter, tighter arrangement (many of the songs are over four minutes, rather unnecessarily). It is difficult to judge whether Chambers’ success is the result of true talent or a case of coming along at the right time, but I’d still take Kasey over Faith and Shania any day.
