But let's take this beast on its own terms. If one were in possession of a bar-chart or two, maybe a spreadsheet, one could conduct a scientific analysis what would reveal that Forget October is a consistently wonderful work. Yes, it's commercial, yes it sounds like it could happily rest among the rotating blandness on offer on CMT or somesuch, but, prejudices aside, there's no denying the fact that at least half of these 12 tracks are certainly memorable, and, on occasion, hauntingly beautiful.
Waverly, for example, what opens with a bit of the old bongo-drums and acoustic strummery, is a gorgeous, evocative hymn to regret and rebirth. The lyrics occasionally stroll a little too close to self-obsessed whining, but the arrangement and, most of all, Jen Slocumb's anguished, arresting vocal performance, conspire to ensure that what might have been a cloying, over-sentimental bout of cliché-molesting, emerges as something much more powerful.
Commercial it may be, but Forget October is also a coherent, incredibly atmospheric work. Sign Of Life has a hookline built around a yearning for the "Colorado River", and it's impossible not to feel moved by the passion on evidence.
That "passion" is the one thing what sets these cats apart from so much corporate radio-scarring "country" seeping forth like some vile mutation from Nashville nowadays. It's probably why I took a dislike to Martha's Trouble upon hearing no more than twenty seconds of the opening track. Images of those vulgar, obnoxious hounds I once observed prancing around to the strains of some overblown ballad on satellite television, those soulless, saccharine examples of contemporary American Country, before, thank Christ, Uncle Tupelo and so on offered an alternative, all of that stuff came back like some twisted childhood memory of physical abuse.
That kinda pish turned me off contemporary country music until a chance hearing of Hell Among The Yearlings by Gillian Welch convinced me that there was something meaningful going on in the backwoods again.
The last thing anyone needs is to have a decade of alt.country majesty wiped asunder with one ill-prepared bout of record-playing.
But Martha's Trouble, whilst sounding little like, say, The Handsome Family or Buddy And Julie Miller, are no less deserving of accolade.
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