The odds are pretty good that Jenny Whiteley has never spent five minutes inside a state prison. But damn if she doesn’t sound like a lifer on “Halls Of Folsom”, the third track on Hopetown. “The lights have no mercy/It’s too bright to sleep, too dim to see,” the Ontario artist sings in a voice that suggests too many nights locked down in solitary.
But as bleak as the tune is, it’s also beautiful, with world-weary vocals offset by dying-campfire guitars and incandescent mandolin. For three low-key minutes, doing hard time actually seems appealing, if only because you might end up in the cell next to Whiteley.
“Halls Of Folsom” is the spine-chilling standout of Whiteley’s sophomore outing, but there’s plenty more to like. The loping “Hallelujah” may be a cynical look at roadside-revival religion, but it boasts a chorus sent from the heavens. “Drive Anywhere” is Shania Twain if she’d grown up wanting to be k.d. lang trapped in Loretta Lynn’s body, and the ramblin’ “No Reason Blues” goes from simple to sublime the second the clawhammer banjo kicks in.
What’s frustrating about Hopetown is that it could have been a great record, instead of merely a good one. Noticeably absent here is old-fashioned grit; while not exactly sterile, the production is as clean as a small town’s conscience. That’s fine when Whiteley is coming on like a coal miner’s daughter, but less than effective when she embraces her inner folkie on tracks such as “Day To Day”.
On a more general level, Whiteley should stop worrying about enunciating every word and think seriously about showing some spit and emotion. The only thing really missing from Hopetown is a little bit of attitude, and that’s something the singer obviously has plenty of. After all, she did time in Folsom Prison.
