Sunny Sweeney - Heartbreakers Hall of Fame

Sunny Sweeney - Heartbreakers Hall of Fame
By Holly Gleason - AngryCountry Staff Writer

In a world where longnecks sweat in the airless caves that's any jukejoint worth its neon, Sunny Sweeney ain't afraid to dip into the oldest school kinda honky tonk country. With a voice that evokes the young Tanya Tucker in terms of no-mess-Lolita charm with a drop of Tammy Wynette's tear-stained conviction, Sweeney knows how to get the bass to bounce, the back beat to bang and the guitars to twang and burn… and she's not feeling the need to cake it up with the waxy, but radio-friendly sheen common to today's arena-leaning country.

Instead, she digs deep into the two-steppin', Buck Owens' basted “Next Big Nothing,” with its holding her place and proud of it conviction or the loop-de-loop steel'n'vocal curlique charm of getting by that is “Here Lately” with equal commitment. Invoking the eau de small towns and old flames that've flickered out for a girl who kept getting gone in “Ten Years Pass,” it's a sob'n'resolved examination of the price exacted for a life lived beyond the confines of America's picket fence settled down that knows no self-pity just the trajectory of wanting more.

Sweeney, with her tart high end alto, ain't afraid to get her heart broken. Indeed, she seems to regard the dents, chips and cracks of a busted love as the entry toll for a life lived to the fullest - whether it's the dragging waltz that's the title track or the midtempo duet with Jim Lauderdale of “Lavender Blue,” this is a girl who exults in pressing the sore spots to know she's alive.

That kind of gusto for all of it gives her the moxie that defines those who're bold of heart. It's a fearless, too, that makes a Texas girl who seemingly wants no part of Music Row's show - beyond the marketing muscle and distribution Scott Borchetta's Big Machine can provide - reach for the hardest stuff: Lacy J. Dalton's #1 homage to Nashville's once unseen songwriter's “16th Avenue” and alt.country darling Iris DeMent's sweet tribute “Mama's Opry” to an iconic legend that'a now emrbaced out for the patina of tradition rather than the history contained within.

With that almost twisting by the pool Texas tonk of “Please Be San Antone,” Sweeney sets herself up to be the intersection of Dwight Yoakam, Wanda Jackson and Elvis movies at their most winsome. To melt time and influenes like that is a rare gift, but Sweeney - obviously raised on Texas music in its Tejano, songwriter and cowboy incarnations - makes swing fold into blazing bar stuff, dragging hillbilly laments and eyes-blazing done me wrong indignation.
Versatility comes from being washed in the brew, not in the kool-aid, and so Sunny Sweeney stakes her claim with conviction and a hardcore sense of what matters to her. If it's not for mainstream radio - and they may find it too real to mess with, it'll cheer fans of the kinda country that has people incessantly feeding quarters into jukeboxes from happy hour until well past closing time.

-- Holly Gleason

Buy the Album: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000MV8C9I/ecnadmedia-20