CD Review of Amy Speace's
Songs for Bright Street
From Wood & Steel Magazine's "Indie Artists on Review" Section
by Bryan Beller
Published Summer, 2006

It takes chutzpah, or just plain toughness, for a female Yankee singer-songwriter to call herself an “Americana roots-rocker with a folk streak,” as Amy Speace does when forced to say it in seven words. But when your music simultaneously befits the funkiest little coffeehouse in New Hampshire as it would the dustiest honky-tonk in Texas, the description rings with the authenticity of an artist who transcends the easy classification of marketing.

Speace’s third album, Songs for Bright Street, is a panoramic journey through her musical psyche. The first three tunes are quirky indie rock, with her band, the Tearjerks, expertly deploying an instrumental versatility (Rhodes, slide guitar, drums played with brushes, even a Mellotron) that frees Amy to cover emotional topics with varying degrees of edge. The album ignites with the third track, “Not the Heartless Kind”, in which she coyly describes how bad she could be (but of course, would never, ever choose to be) over a slinky, raunchy groove reminiscent of a raw Sheryl Crow.

Then the whipsawing really begins. “Two” is a sugar-sweet, acoustic-guitar vocal duet, and a road ode to monogamy (“So I’ll sleep off the haze of my singular ways/count the days ‘til I’m back home with you”). That palate cleanser sets up the seemingly contrary “Shed This Skin", which heart-wrenchingly defines her desire to evolve. But it’s the genuine honky-tonk of “The Real Thing” that knocks the listener’s pre-conceptions to the floor, as Speace does the full Johnny Cash, wielding her acoustic guitar like a weapon and taking no prisoners in a nasty, sneering stance of defiantly frank sexual force.

Shift again, and suddenly it’s a folk album, with tunes like “Make Me Lonely Again”, “Can’t Find A Reason To Cry”, and “Home” exploring every possible angle of love’s contradictory occurrence, all over a bedrock of utterly traditional Americana-flavored instrumentations and acoustic guitar riffs. One second love puts her through hell, the next it “rotates on a dime” and she’s at home “with the love of her life.” What’s amazing is how comfortable the songs feel in their wildly divergent views, both musically and lyrically.

In the end, Songs for Bright Street, like Amy herself, is deeply rewarding, regardless of any one stance it takes - high praise for an album that starts with a banjo, ends with a Mellotron, and still leaves you feeling distinctly, completely American.

This copyrighted article first appeared in the Summer 2006 issue of Taylor Guitars' quarterly publication, Wood&Steel. It is reproduced here by permission of Taylor Guitars for the sole discretionary use of Bryan Beller and cannot be reproduced or reprinted anywhere else without the express permission and consent of Taylor Guitars.