Review Summary: A classic then and a classic now.
I love the Dixie Chicks.
I’ve tried many times to write a review for this, but no matter how I try to mask it, it’s better that I come clean now. I understand that me coming into this as a believable spokesman for the quality of this record rests on me being an unbiased critic but… there it is. Believe me, I would love to leave it up to someone without a deep-rooted and instinctual love for the band, but after over a decade of this site existing without a review for this album, it looks like you’re stuck with me. Regardless, I will do my best to play the part of the objective observer, merely a representative voicing his humble opinion as to why this is the best goddamn country-pop record ever written. It may be a hopeless endeavor, but here it goes.
The first thing that anyone usually notices about the Dixie Chicks’ music is Natalie Maines’ distinctive voice. Many consider it to be a turn-off, but I think it fits the music like no other. Even if she belts it out a little bit more than the average country singer, her voice manages to fit the tone and style that each song calls for just right. On “Ready to Run,” the celtic-tinged anthem of an opener, she effortlessly takes on the persona doe-eyed of the girl who decides to blow off her responsibilities and find the joy in life again, while on the mournful “Cold Day in July” she accurately depicts the shock of the perfect love going down in flames. I suppose I’ve been a fan too long to say that her vocals aren’t just an acquired taste, but what I can say is that they always feel genuine, no matter the song. And it’s not as if she’s just playing a part either; who’s to say that all these different moods and emotions couldn’t be the experiences of one person?
It’s something that the Dixie Chicks have always been able to pull off extremely well. At a seeming breakneck speed they’ll switch from perfectly content and dreamy to bloodthirsty and out for revenge without the slightest ounce of audial whiplash. Why should there be? These are just emotions we feel on a day-to-day basis, often with no rhyme or reason or order to which they occur. It’s just that the Dixie Chicks understand each feeling they imbue into their music so wholeheartedly that it’s completely genuine — if it wasn’t, we would know.
The emotional ballad to feel-good anthem ratio is almost 1:1, somehow sequenced in a way that feels perfectly natural. While the second half of the record might not exactly live up to the legendary opening quintet of songs (closed off by “Goodbye Earl,” featuring Maines telling us a story in an exaggerated version of her Texan accent that’s so amusingly dark that it wouldn’t be out of place in a Coen Brothers film), there’s more than enough highlights to make a well-rounded record. The absolute best track from the record, “Heartbreak Town” is far along the latter half. Acting as an adequately distressing look at life in the city from the eyes of the a country girl, if you’re looking for any evidence of Maines’ vocal prowess, check this one. Backed by wonderful lyrics and bittersweet strings, it’s just proof that the Chicks know exactly what they’re doing, no matter what’s given to them.
And yes, as much as I hate to admit it, many of these songs were “given to them.” To be fair, not many country (much less country-pop) singers were writing their own music around this time, but the strength of the songs that they actually
did write is enough to frustrate. They would eventually rely much more on their own songwriting on future releases (especially their most recent (and by recent I mean 11 years ago (which is also really frustrating considering they’re still together))), but the evidence here suggests they could already have been doing it much more than they were.
The three self-written songs are all excellent. “Don’t Waste Your Heart” is a somber self-deprecating ballad that just makes you want to give them all a hug, while conversely “Sin Wagon” directly invokes the wrath of God in possibly the most blasphemous song ever in country music. It’s also likely the most rockin’ song to ever rely on banjo and mandolin solos. Featuring taunting vocals from Maines pointed at Christian hypocrites and plenty of naughty innuendos that pissed off country radio stations, it’s only the beginning of the battle they would fight against the majority of the genre (thanks to their obvious liberal and feminist leanings). Finally, we have “Without You,” which, propelled by lovely strings and emotive guitar playing, is easily another highlight. These three are naturally put all together in order with no tonal conflicts.
If I seem to be getting a bit too gushy, I’ll be the first to admit that if there’s any weak point to the album, it’s “Mr. Heartache.” It relies on an already not-too-clever metaphor to deliver some tacky lyrics and uninspired melodies that wouldn’t be out of place on a 1950s rock ’n’ roll single. It’s a solid song overall, but compared to the rest of the album it’s bland and uninspired, sticking out like a sore thumb.
So yes, I’ll admit I might not have been the ideal candidate for an unprejudiced review of
Fly, but goshdarn it, it’s easy to be hopelessly in love with something that was great when you were growing up with it and yet still remains a classic to this day. It hit me when I was a kid, and it still hits me now thanks to the deeply emotive work of Maines’ and company, dashing from feeling to feeling and yet hitting each like a bullseye. In fact, I dare you to find a more dreamy longing for true love than “Cowboy Take Me Away,” a more irritable put-down than “Hole in My Head,” and a more heartbroken act of given up than “Let Him Fly,” all on the same album.
Could you?
Thought not.
