The best new-to-me act I saw a couple of weeks ago in Nashville at AmericanaFest was East Nashvillian India Ramey. Her music is a throwback combination of Bakersfield twang, New Jersey attitude, and Appalachian harmony. She threw in a little spaghetti-western flair and two-step rhythm on her recently released album, Baptized By the Blaze. The result is a set list that’s perfect for any honky-tonk in the country.
One of the common elements throughout the record is journey to kick the tranquilizers she’d been taking to relieve the panic disorder that came out of the trauma of her father abusing her mother. The lead cut for those songs is the title track. It’s an uptempo country number about the phoenix-like recovery from addiction where “now I’m alive because I died.” The Mountain is a slower ballad, trudging and heavy at the beginning but like anything geological it’s unstoppable–the perfect metaphor for building on the lessons she learned about herself. Never Going Back is a faster country twanger that showcases the smoother, refined side of Ramey’s vocals. She Ain’t Never Coming Home adds a little southern rock guitar to the rumor of an abusive relationship.
Another common theme is the instantiation of a badass woman who owns her path in life. Ain’t My First Rodeo is about as honky-tonk as it gets, full of pedal steel and Telecaster twang. With the recent passing of Kris Kristofferson I was reminded of the woman on the other side of his Silver Tongued Devil. Silverado is another one that sweeps you across the dance floor and a reminder that an empty soul isn’t gender specific when “my money was gone I was alone in that motel bed”. I think my favorite is Go On Git. It’s a country shuffle with a fun chorus that is easily a sing-along for the audience: “don’t the door hit you where the good Lord split you.”
One of the trailblazing aspects to Loretta Lynn and her music was the ability to couch a razor-sharp commentary about society’s biases in a popular country style that breezes right by you if you don’t listen closely. India Ramey possesses some of that same talent, but instead of a radio-friendly countrypolitan style it takes the fork in the road and musically pulls into a seedy honky-tonk just outside of town. I recommend you metaphorically follow her to the roadhouse and take a listen to Baptized By the Blaze.
About the author: I've actually driven from Tehatchapee to Tonopah. And I've seen Dallas from a DC-9 at night.