Loveless Encounter Fails to Satisfy

Country singer Patty Loveless has made great strides since her modest self-titled debut album came out in 1987.

Her 1994 effort, “When Fallen Angels Fly,” was named album of the year by the Country Music Assn., which earlier this month crowned her country’s top female vocalist for her work on last year’s “Trouble With the Truth” album.

The awards, and heightened critical response to those two recordings, have helped bring the auburn-haired woman with the distinctively pure voice to a wider audience.

Why, then, did her performance Monday night at the Crazy Horse seem like such a big step backward?

Throughout much of her tepid 60-minute set, Loveless played the part of a baseball pitcher warming up in the bullpen. As she casually pitched song after song without breaking a sweat, it appeared she was just loosening up.

Missing throughout her 15-song concert was the kind of dramatic tension that comes from boldly taking the mound and letting loose.

The early show--the first of four scheduled for Monday and Tuesday--while pleasant, was frustratingly void of country’s requisite emotional depth.

Loveless (born Patty Ramey) showed an endearing, personal side when she asked whether anyone in the audience was seeing her in concert for the first time. After several folks raised hands, she said, “You’re probably wondering what makes me so doggone country.”

Loveless then revealed she is a Kentucky coal miner’s daughter, one of eight children, and grew up listening on the family radio to their favorite bluegrass bands, among them the Stanley Brothers, Earl Scruggs and the late Bill Monroe.

A warm, genuine moment. It’s too bad Loveless missed the chance to connect like that with her music.

The facile approach she and her eight-piece band took during such songs as Jim Lauderdale’s “Halfway Down,” Gary Burr’s “I Try to Think About Elvis” and Gary Nicholson’s “The Trouble With the Truth” was far more prominent.

Loveless possesses a rich, crystalline voice that would seem capable of an emotive outpouring, but she rarely dug down to tap deep-seated longing and love, disappointment and heartache, anger and fears.

The best country music emanates from personal sagas of busted dreams and broken hearts. When conveyed with heart and grit, such tales leave an indelible mark on the listener.

Ironically, after singing “You Can Feel Bad,” Loveless demurely admonished the audience for “being too quiet out there.” Truth be told, she gave them very little to get enthused about.