Carpenter’s Achy, Breaky Smarts

MARY CHAPIN CARPENTER

“Stones in the Road”

Columbia

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Carpenter has really been treading an interesting line, balancing between her folk instincts on one side and what the country market will bear on the other. “Stones” gives the line-dancing set almost nothing to latch onto, other than “Shut Up and Kiss Me,” a perfunctory attempt to recapture the upbeat sass of her hit “I Feel Lucky.”

Most of the rest of this very subdued set is even more unaccommodating than usual for Carpenter: It’s a sad lament for boomers’ lost ideals that’s more “Boys of Summer” than boot-scoot.

When at her extraordinary best, Carpenter is a lyricist to rank with John Prine. In “Jubilee,” she extends forgiveness to a bitter pariah with such grace it might be God’s own. Then she’s the loner in “Outside Looking In” and “Where Time Stands Still,” a romantic, pensive unmarried wondering where the dream went.

Remarkable as this word-craft is, you might still wish the melodies had nearly the rapture or rhapsody to put the words across for all they’re worth, and to balance a vocal delivery that tends toward the dispassionate. But Carpenter has the rare combo of smarts and sentiment to make her ache your ache.

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