Elizabeth Cook – You don’t have to call her darlin’
Cook might aspire to be a mainstream artist, but judging by Hey Y’all and her live shows, her musical sensibility and influences tend to split the difference between today’s commercial country and Americana. In regard to the latter, Cook’s tastes hew close to those of the more historically conscious wing of the alt-country contingent, a group that embraces the likes of Loretta, Dolly, Tammy and Hank as exemplars of all that’s good and right about country music. That said, those who imagine there’s such as a thing as “real” or “authentic” country music will doubtless be disappointed to learn that Cook also dotes on records by the Gatlin Brothers, Glen Campbell and Jessi Colter. (On Hey Y’all she covers Colter’s “I’m Not Lisa” to devastating, Orbisonian effect.)
Lately, Cook says she can’t get enough of the music Tanya Tucker made with Billy Sherrill during the early 1970s. “The soul and the groove on those records is just so good,” says Cook, who anticipates that her own writing and recording will begin to reflect this latest obsession. “What they did is very southern, and it’s got a lot of edge to it, but it’s produced — it’s very produced. And yet it’s still this scratchy-voiced little country girl singing lyrics that sound like dark southern literature. ‘That Georgia sun is blood red and goin’ down. What’s your mama’s name? Wished I’d known the man a little better that turned my mama on.’ I wish I could bring Billy Sherrill out of retirement to produce my next record.”
A number of tracks on Cook’s current album already betray a countrypolitan influence, particularly those that employ strings and the Carol Lee Singers (a Nashville Edition-style vocal group led by a backup singer on the Opry who’s the daughter of Wilma Lee and Stoney Cooper). Glen Campbell’s late-’60s recordings with producer Al DeLory are certainly touchstones, particularly the way Cook and Dodd put strings on uptempo numbers such as “Everyday Sunshine” and “Stupid Things”. The latter is the album’s first single; the former is a shimmering, hard-charging cross between Lynn Anderson’s “Rose Garden” and Dottie West’s “Lesson In Leavin'”.
Other tracks on Cook’s record — the bluesy “Demon” and the swamp-steeped “Ocala”, for example — are more rocking, as befits someone who regularly includes a version of the Monkees’ undeniable “Last Train To Clarksville” in her live shows. “One of my favorite things to do, especially since I don’t have hit records yet, is to play cover songs that no one’s expecting from me,” Cook says. “No one expects a country singer like me to do a Monkees song, and I love that.
“I’m sort of a fickle person musically anyway,” she adds. “I like to get into different sounding things all the time. I guess, as you evolve, you find what you’re really good at, but I’m still at a point where I’m exploring a lot, and I think that’s why my record has so many different types of songs on it.”
Artistic variability of the sort evinced by Cook’s new album is, of course, antithetical to the niche marketing that governs today’s music industry. Ever philosophical, Cook nevertheless believes she has a place within the narrow strictures of the Nashville hit mill. “I see some places where the system still works,” Cook says. “Alan Jackson wrote about something that affected his heart, and he recorded it and sang it on an awards show on national TV. It was a true artistic expression. I want to see more of that.
“There are other artists out there that I sense that from, people who have an idea of what they want to do,” Cook continues. “But I don’t care who you are, early on in your career you’re impressionable and yet vulnerable because you need those opportunities just to get your music out there. Willie Nelson, you know, used to wear a suit. So I see that battle going on, yet I feel lucky. I don’t feel that I have to fight that hard to hold onto what I want to do.”
Cook will no doubt have to fight at some point, but at least she can draw strength from the fact that Dolly — as well as Patsy, Loretta, Tammy, Tanya, Reba, Shania, and a host of other smart women — had to go through exactly the same thing.
ND contributing editor Bill Friskics-Warren is music editor for the Nashville Scene, for which he recently wrote an essay about Dolly Parton and Chuck D.