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Jaime Wyatt | Neon Cross (2020)

by David Wilikofsky

Hard times and hard living have always provided country musicians with plenty of material. Merle Haggard did stints in prison, where he saw Johnny Cash perform and was inspired to join the jail country band (the rest is history). Hank Williams died at the age of twenty nine after years of drug and alcohol abuse. Jaime Wyatt is no stranger to any of this; she went to jail before the age of twenty one after robbing her heroin dealer. In 2017, the time of her first release Felony Blues, she had relapsed and was once again using. Eleven days before the album came out her father died, and a few months after a close friend overdosed. Wyatt wasn’t able to show up for either event because of her addiction. She decided to get clean and went to rehab. After all of this turbulence, she wrote and recorded Neon Cross.

Lyrically, Wyatt isn’t afraid to speak candidly on the album; she’s on record saying that she tried to write these songs without any filter. Perhaps the best example of this is “Rattlesnake Girl”, where Wyatt comes out to the world as a queer woman. Country music hasn’t had many openly LGBTQ voices over the years nor is it necessarily known for welcoming them (although artists like k.d. lang enjoyed success, and underground artists like Lavender Country continue to be rediscovered). Much like “Rattlesnake Girl”, the other songs here come from a deeply personal place. From describing the grind of being a professional musician (“Make Something Outta Me”) to the difficulty of pursuing a romantic relationship while always on the road (“Goodbye Queen”), the lyrics ring true as pieces of Wyatt’s lived experience.

Wyatt recorded this album with Shooter Jennings (son of outlaw country legends Waylon Jennings and Jessi Colter, who makes an appearance on the album). The duo don’t box themselves in with the production. While there are some straight ahead country tunes (“L I V I N”, “Hurt So Bad”), they’re not afraid to experiment. “Make Something Outta Me” has a rock and roll swagger and crunchy guitar riffs, while “Demon Tied To A Chair In My Brain” recalls the raw blues rock of early Lucinda Williams. Tying all the tracks together is Wyatt’s voice, which conveys the depths of emotion plumbed on these songs.

Wyatt has been called the queen of outlaw country, and this album will serve as her coronation. It’s a fully realized album that paints a portrait of Wyatt’s life while being heartfelt, raw and vulnerable. As someone who was eagerly awaiting this album after hearing Felony Blues, I can say that Wyatt has more than delivered on the promise of that release on her full length debut. Press releases have indicated that Wyatt has stayed sober since her rehab stint before recording this album, and I’m hoping that holds. We need her to keep “L I V I N” so she can put out more albums as good as this one.

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