Country Grammar is a recurring monthly column about country music. The purpose of this column will be to analyze and demystify country releases, large or small, and help halt the notion that Country music is somehow less deserving of introspective analysis than rock, rap, or pop. It will highlight the great moments, and occasionally, dig deep into the bad ones, but the goal is always to bring more attention to a genre that is far too often swept under the rug due to class assumptions or music criticism’s clear rockist past.
Nikki Lane is not your conventional country singer. The South Carolina-born, Nashville-living musician is releasing her third full-length record next month on New West, a small but formidable independent label focused on gritty, rootsy music of all strains. Lane is a high school dropout who moved to New York City to become a fashion designer, succeeded, then quit and decided to become a country singer — inspired largely by an ex-boyfriend’s own artistic incompetence.
Back in 2014 when I interviewed Lane for an Elmore print cover story about young women in country music, she told me she figured she could make music at least as good as her ex, if not better. She was more than right, and her determination continues to raise the stakes in the genre.
When Lane released her debut album Walk Of Shame in 2011, it turned some heads, but country music wasn’t full of the independent and female-focused momentum it is now, so it wasn’t until her follow-up, All Or Nothin’ in 2014, that Lane really began to amass the cult following she has now, who love her drawl, crass language, and singular moments of vulnerability.
All these elements are so clearly part of who Lane is as a person, that yes, they play out in her music, but also in her personality and artistic impulses across the board. That second record also benefited from the guidance of production helmed by Dan Auerbach, and for a rookie country singer, an expert’s tweaks made all the difference. The Black Keys member ran into Nikki at one of the vintage markets she frequents, and helped out simply because he was a fan of her music.
Even if she left behind fashion design as her main focus, Lane still manages to incorporate it on the side, running a secondhand clothes boutique called High Class Hillbilly, which is part of a larger vintage and emerging designer scene in East Nashville (that I reported on last year for Racked). Don’t ever expect to see her signed to a major label or working with pop producers, and don’t expect her to stop designing her own skull panties that say “F*ck Off” across the front.
There is a brazen, sh*t-stirring edge to everything Lane creates, but despite her rawhide and barbed wire approach, she refuses to sacrifices an inch of her femininity. The tension between those two poles is what drives her new album, Highway Queen, at breakneck speeds, straight into the arms of love. But before we get to the romance, there’s an army of rednecks to deal with. The album kicks off with Lane yelping “yippee ki-yay” on a song called “700,000 Rednecks,” and doesn’t get any less country than that throughout.
On the track, Lane imagines this army of backwoods people are what helps propel her to a life on the road that’s far less than glamorous, and pays little outside of satisfaction. In the end, satisfaction seems to be the only currency that Lane deems worthy of gambling. If there’s any justice, this will be the record where her risky, rascally style pays off. And even if it doesn’t, you better believe Lane is going to keep hitting the road singing her songs, if only to make those rednecks happy.
Highway Queen is full of smoky, cartoonish melodies like this that one — that that were the hallmark of ’70s country –and they’re guided into outlaw territory by Lane’s unmistakable high, sweet alto galloping out in front. On the album cover, she’s posing draped across the massive expanse of a bull’s horns, a hint of danger contained in the unmistakably beautiful shot. She’s both vampy and vulnerable, and though there’s plenty of humor on Highway Queen, Lane never strays all the way into camp — she means it, even when it’s funny that she does.
Every line here is spiked by her inescapable drawl straight outta South Carolina, even the syrupy ballads that are thick with sweetness (the bread and butter of country), like “Jackpot,” the lead single dedicated to Lane’s current boyfriend, fellow musician Jonathan Tyler, who helped out by providing both inspiration and musical contributions on the album.
Like on All Or Nothin’, Lane’s own unmistakably wily songwriting chops benefits from outside collaborators willing to play by the rules, and Highway Queen is her slickest album to date without losing even an inch of her personality. Though Highway Queen is an album on high stakes gambles on impossible love stories — and the painful losses that can inevitability follow — the driving force of the record is about a woman who has lived her life following her own heart, no matter the cost. The title track offers a love story between a girl and the open road, sans partner, that is rarely presented to women as a fulfilling and happy ending.
Lane’s last album All Or Nothin’ was largely an album fueled by fiery breakup anthems, of stories about love and loss, and even if the closer here “Forever Last Forever” is one of the best divorce songs I’ve ever heard, Highway Queen is mostly about finding love anew. It’s an album about taking a chance on yourself — Lane is not playing into any mainstream impulses here, but she sounds more like herself than ever — and the result is a gorgeous, peculiar record that doesn’t fold under repeat listens. Highway Queen is the sound a woman coming into her own in love, but it’s also the story of one who would be just as happy if she was alone. Still, what’s a heart for if not betting against the odds?
Highway Queen is out 2/17 via New West Records. Get it here.
