Finding Their Way

Anyone who has read one of the flurry of rave reviews for singer-songwriter Shelby Lynne’s new album knew Friday at the House of Blues to expect a touch of the sensual persuasion of Dusty Springfield and the desperate vulnerability of Janis Joplin.

But whoever imagined that the connection everyone would be marveling about afterward would be the primal-scream fury of John Lennon?

Lynne opened her encore segment with “Mother,” a Lennon tale of childhood abandonment that ranks as one of the most gripping recordings ever in rock. The 1970 track, featured on the ex-Beatle’s “Plastic Ono Band” album, wasn’t just memorable for the starkness of the song, but also for the almost frightening intensity of his vocal.

“Mother, you had me, but I never had you. . . .” wrote Lennon, who was raised by his aunt after his parents split. “Father, you left me, but I never left you.”

In singing the song Friday, the petite Lynne matched the chilling urgency of Lennon’s original--all the way down to the closing howl, “Mama, don’t gooooo . . . Daddy come home!”

In the hands of a lesser artist or in a different context, the moment could have come across as crass exploitation. As most of her fans know, Lynne, at age 18, saw her father shoot and kill her mother, then turn the gun on himself.

But Lynne laid a foundation for “Mother” on Friday by first presenting her own songs; equally raw, deeply confessional numbers, most of which dealt with some sort of romantic abandonment. Instead of appearing exploitative, the song was mesmerizing.

Even without that bonus, Lynne demonstrated in her 90-minute set that she may be on her way to a rare triple crown in pop music. She’s a contender for album of the year, with “I Am Shelby Lynne,” the comeback story of the year and the live show of the year.

Not bad for someone whose career seemed all but over just three years ago when she said goodbye to Nashville after a frustrating decade of trying to find a place for her own artistic vision in the conservative, commercially minded boundaries of modern country music.

The new “I Am Shelby Lynne” album, produced by Bill Bottrell, expands Lynne’s country foundation to include the heartbreak, blues-accented torch songs that Aretha Franklin and the late Dusty Springfield once specialized in.

Backed by a vigorous, guitar-driven five-piece band and a male backup singer, Lynne seemed as excited as the audience Friday, frequently pausing between and even during songs to sign autographs or to slap hands with fans lining the stage.

“Come on!” she shouted at one point in a song, as if summoning even more energy and passion--but it was unclear whether she was speaking to herself, the band or the wildly responsive audience. Perhaps all three.

Having found her voice on the new record, Lynne is clearly on a mission. Except for the relatively generic rock undercurrents of “Life Is Bad,” everything from the album worked marvelously in the show--from the unyielding accusation of “Your Lies” to the hometown nostalgia of “Where I’m From.”

But her most commanding songs are the ones in which Lynne drops her guard completely and shares the details of her own soul-searching battle against personal demons. She put two of those tunes, “Why Can’t You Be?” and “Lookin’ Up,” back-to-back, and the results were chilling--as if she were sharing an X-ray of her bruised psyche.

“Scared of lovin’ ‘cause it might feel good,” she sings in one song, summarizing the heartache of fearing what you want most. It’s a conflict as old as the blues, but it’s a tribute to Lynne’s daring and craft that she has found a way to make us feel it anew.

David Mead, who opened the show, is a pop-minded singer-songwriter who has spent lots of time listening to some of the same George and Ira Gershwin and Cole Porter songs as Rufus Wainwright, but without learning as much from them.