How could you not fall in love with New York club favorite Soozie Tyrell? The violin-playing redhead sang like a horny angel as part of Buster Poindexter’s backup group in the 1980s; since then, she’s played with everyone from John Hammond to Sheryl Crow to Bruce Springsteen. The Boss returns the favor to play lead guitar on “White Lines”, the opening and title track to Tyrell’s solo debut.
But there are reasons chorus girls don’t always triumph in the spotlight. Tyrell sounds like she’s been sublimating her own musical emotions for so long that she can’t quite connect with the surprisingly complex, personal and articulately rendered words and music she’s written.
White Lines seems ruefully autobiographical, about a life in constant motion that somehow hasn’t changed much for a former Army brat now in her early 40s. The resonant feelings get smoothed over in the glossy production and too-familiar power chords; it’s as if the album was made for that AOR radio format which doesn’t really exist anymore. Her roots don’t show.
As if to underline the disconnect, the cover photo has her clutching a violin at the side of the road, her gorgeous head entirely cropped out of the photo. What were they thinking?