For Cash, Honesty’s the Only Policy

Richard Lamm and Rosanne Cash must be soul mates.

The former Colorado governor hopes to mount a third-party presidential campaign on the premise that Americans need the harsh, unvarnished truth about what ails the nation--a truth he says they won’t get from front-runners afraid to offend by being brutally honest.

After a hit-festooned run on the country music charts in the 1980s, Cash has devoted herself in the 1990s to harsh truth-telling of her own, at considerable cost to her popularity.

The hits have stopped coming, and Cash on Wednesday played to a fond but less-than-capacity house of about 375. Her last three albums, “Interiors,” “The Wheel,” and the current “10 Song Demo,” have ranged from very good to superior while engaging in an intense, thorough and detailed examination of what causes a relationship to decay.

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Accompanied at the Coach House only by guitarist Larry Campbell, Cash carried out this forensic pathology of the heart with tremendous melodic grace and an intimate, inward-probing quality. She sang in an attractive, no-frills alto that sought amber-like depth rather than surface sparkle. There were dramatic peaks when she reached for the top of her range and stepped up the dynamics, but Cash was essentially a meditative singer re-creating the interior moments from which her hard truths have been distilled.

Cash framed her show in a way that drove home her core ideas. She began with “Price of Temptation,” emphasizing that following one’s desires has consequences that, while perhaps worth paying, must inevitably be borne. “I Want to Know” somberly underscored her insistence on facing the sad truth when love begins to falter.

At the evening’s other end, her encore offered seeming contrasts that only confirmed her initial point. The Beatles’ “I’m Only Sleeping” was weary and dreaming, illustrating the allure of shutting out the world. Then came “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly” from “My Fair Lady.” No escapist daydream in Cash’s slow, dark, halting version, it was a final sad acknowledgment that daydreaming won’t work, that truths have to be faced.

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All that truth-telling and intensity did make for a somewhat monolithic 90 minutes, although Cash staved off dullness with her consistent melodic knack and her ability to alternate between deep, pooling ballads and heartland-rock anthems such as “Runaway Train” and “The Summer I Read Collette.” Her open, wry stage manner helped greatly. Cash introduced songs with stories and quips, twice reading clearly autobiographical passages from her new short story collection, “Bodies of Water.”

Still, it would have been a better show had she been able to interject some lighter music into the proceedings, the way Richard Thompson does to set off his even darker but less confessional accounts of love gone wrong. Some bright, twangy oldies from her country chart days--perhaps “My Baby Thinks He’s a Train,” “Pink Bedroom” or “Tennessee Flat Top Box,” a song handed down by her father, Johnny Cash--could have provided a needed change of pace. Instead, we got unrelenting intensity, relieved only by her between-songs charm.

Lead guitarist Campbell was little help during the show’s early going, looking as stiff as a diplomat and playing backing parts that were competent but strictly secondary. Given freer rein on his fret board during the second half, Campbell was transformed into a finger-picking superman who brought cheers from the house and smiles from Cash as he executed tricky rhythmic cutbacks or coaxed a bell-like gleam from his strings.

Had Cash’s recent albums been more accommodating to country music’s commercial requirements, she probably could have maintained herself in something like the lucrative but artistically respectable slot Mary Chapin Carpenter occupies by alternating more probing songs with less ambitious hit fodder. Instead, she is a self-exile who has no established genre identity and pays a price for giving in to the temptation of pursuing a deeply personal style.

Bravo for her.

Opener Gina Quartaro is hoping for a shot in the country mainstream with an upcoming independent-label release she is recording this month in Nashville with some A-list session players. She may just have a chance, with music that’s progressive by mainstream standards but hardly a reach.

Besides meeting the qualification of being extremely attractive--women who aren’t need not apply in Music City--this veteran of the Orange County coffeehouse scene has impressive musical credentials. The songs Quartaro writes skip the usual Eagles rehash and meld the rhythmic energy of Buck Owens’ brand of rockin’ country with an early-Beatles melodic freshness and exuberance. Driving home the Beatles connection was an emphasis on sharp harmonies matching Quartaro’s subtle, tawny-hued alto and Rebekah Coltman’s high-range backing voice. On song after immediately catchy song, it seemed possible that they might break into “I Feel Fine” or some other country-leaning Beatles number at any moment.

While Quartaro’s songs skirted the thorny patches Cash is committed to explore, her plain-spoken declarations of strong love and wistful sentiment had an honest ring and an immediate appeal. She could take more risks, such as trying a ballad rather than playing an entirely upbeat set, but this assured performer and impressively tasteful, unforced singer is well-equipped to take her shot with music that’s a cut above mainstream.