Even before listening to Willow Avalon’s Southern Belle Raisin’ Hell, one knows it will be a twangy country female declaration of pride just by its title. This record follows that tradition, exemplified by Kitty Wells and Loretta Lynn in the past, to the more modern crop of gifted, spirited gals like Miranda Lambert and Ashley McBryde. There’s a thin line between just perpetuating negative redneck women stereotypes and creating work that conflates expectations through humor and insight. Happily, Avalon’s new album transcends the simple generalities and has much fun doing so.
Avalon has a distinctive voice that simultaneously sounds childlike and wizened. She sings with a drawl and often trills her words. Her delivery conveys a personal and emotional approach to the music. She inhabits the persona of the Southern belle raisin’ hell throughout the record. Now, “raisin’ hell” can mean a lot of different things, such as physically fighting, drinking and partying, having or withholding sex, and so on. Avalon can be intellectually aggressive while delicate, emotionally intelligent, yet sensitive, as she does on the title track. She deals with the complexity through her energy. You know what they say: a fast train gathers no moss.
The singer’s not afraid to get vulgar on tracks like “Homewrecker” (“I guess his eyes are brown / ‘Cause he’s so full of shit / And I’ll start raisin’ hell if he doesn’t fucking quit” she sweetly croons as the other woman; “Hey There, Dolly” (“I am just like you / Got big titties and a big heart, too” she opines to Ms. Parton), and “Yodelayhee” (“But you keep knocking like I forget / When you start talkin’, it just smells like shit” she tells her ex-lover). Willow Avalon’s bluntness adds to her credibility. She’s funny and entertaining, but there is more to it than that. Her feistiness suggests her honesty. She means what she says, is proud of her straightforwardness, and uses it as a sword to wound those who have hurt her.
The first-person narrator of these songs may or may not be the real Avalon. She creatively boasts about who she is and where she comes from. Half the fun of listening is accepting this conceit. Her Southerness alluded to in the title cut is evident on all tracks. Her voice reveals her roots, although it is difficult to think of her as a belle. She is not ladylike in the conventional sense. The fact that Avalon is anti-belle makes her seem genuine—but don’t confuse that with antebellum. Her wars were not civil as much as they were romantic, as she ludicrously describes her encounters with former exes.
This is a country record despite many of its rock and roll trappings. After all, country music is one leg of the three-footed stool upon which rock was founded (country, pop, and R&B). “You can take the girl out of the country, but the country never leaves,” Willow Avalon knowingly sings. The fast-pounding drums on “Something We’ll Regret” or fancy guitar licks on “Damned” decorate her rural authenticity rather than take away from it. The fact that Southern Belle Raisin Hell keeps its musical ambitions small enhances its effectiveness. This is country music for today.