Pistol Annies
Album: Annie Up
Label: Sony
Tracks: 12
Website: http://www.pistolannies.com

Take three bold lady singer-songwriters from the land of country, with a special interpersonal chemistry, an insatiable taste for twang and splendour (and a love of the bright lights!) and a mission to make themselves heard; give 'em catchy stage-names and a crack backing band, and hey presto, here's a ready-made one-of-a-kind outfit destined to make waves, hit the heights and please the crowds. Which is just what happened with The Pistol Annies and their 2011 debut album Hell On Heels, whose larger-than-life stance (and a certain amount of necessary posturing) seemed to many a breath of feisty fresh air in what was seen as the stale milieu of male-dominated Nashville. These gals sure weren't bluffing, and in retrospect were no flash in the pan but very much in the "here to stay" bracket. Although country fans were quick to embrace Lone Star Annie (already-proven chart-topper Miranda Lambert), Holler Annie (Angaleena Presley) and Hippie Annie (Ashley Monroe), it was pretty obvious they'd need to up the ante if they were to continue to draw the crowds - and convince at the same time.

Which is exactly what they're doing on album number two, Annie Up. It feels good, sounds good and tastes good, with a punchy production, solid musicianship and corporate identity and a keen sense of what works musically (you can't go far wrong with guys like Randy Scruggs, Glenn Worf, Fred Etringham and Guthrie Trapp among your crew). It's great drive-time music, and these gals sure can sing. And the lyrics display a deeper insight into the plight of the mistreated woman, and real-life heartbreak, than hitherto, although some of the songs haven't yet entirely jettisoned the slightly cartoon tawdriness that often characterised Hell On Heels, and this latest batch of songs is not without cliché. But there's also sometimes a knowing lightness of tone in the lyrics that belies the harder rock gestures, power chords and gritty tendencies in which they're couched. Time-honoured tricks of arrangement drawn from the pop/rock stable make sure that we "get" the justified anger that lies not far beneath the surface of tracks like Unhappily Married and Hush Hush and the underlying guilt-free aggression of I Feel A Sin Comin' On, while the cheeky hoedown of Damn Thing needs no reality check either. Then again, the more restrained honky-tonk ballads like Being Pretty Ain't Pretty, Girls Like Us and I Hope You're The End Of My Story achieve their payoff quite nicely thankyou. Even so, there are still some fairly dumb-ass lines left in there alongside the ballsier kick-ass lines. But I guess the balance is in Pistol Annies' favour on this latest set, and they still stand up (proudly) to scrutiny, if no other reason than their hearts are firmly in the right place and they've got the knack of showing it.

David Kidman