What happened when the woman who wrote ‘Fist City’ worked with the young man who liked to use his? Well, that will depend on your take on both country music and the music of the White Stripes.
For many this will be a perfect match in today’s cleaned -up, what-passes-for-country climate, in that it has given back to Loretta Lynn the edge she had on her classic recordings. After all, this was a woman who was telling it like it was and making records that questioned the status quo back when no-one else was. Songs like ‘The Pill’, ‘Rated X’, ‘Don’t Come Home A Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ On Your Mind)’ and ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter’, were not then (nor would they be now) the kind of material that the powers that be always deem suitable. Which made it all the more disappointing when some of her ’70s output fell into that easy-listening “countrypolitan” mode rock fans would find hard to take.
All the more reason then to welcome a record this raw and striking, as producer Jack White helps brings out the primal talent in one of American music’s most legendary figures. He’s a man with a grasp of what it is that makes blues and country two sides of the same coin. Both were born out of similarly deprived social conditions and both went on to become the raw elements of rock ’n’ roll.
Crucially, all the songs here are self-written and draw directly from Loretta Lynn’s own experiences. The autobiographical overview ‘Story Of My Life’ sits well alongside more detailed vignettes like the title track and her dirt-poor narrative ‘Little Red Shoes’. The latter has been compared to John Cale’s ‘The Gift’ but is closer in tone, perhaps, to some of Lee Hazelwood’s own narrations. Then you have the classic country themes in the cheating songs ‘Mrs. Leroy Brown’ and ‘Family Tree, songs of faith and doubt in ‘God Makes No Mistakes’ and ‘Trouble On The Line’ and, while no Conway Twitty – the duets between Conway and Loretta are considered to be among the finest in country music’s history – Jack’s duet with Loretta, ‘Portland, Oregon’, is pretty effective.
For my money this is real country music, something that could only have been made today: no mere recreation, but the extension of a living, breathing, vital force that still carries a strong punch. The coal miner’s daughter has hit a rich seam that one can only hope will produce even more gems like this.