Amy Rigby: The Sugar Tree

Hollywood, it's often said, offers no good roles for aging actresses. The same could be said of pop music, in which youth too often supplants talent as the most bankable element of any female songwriter. Amy Rigby countered with her fantastic 1996 disc Diary Of A Mod Housewife, one of the smartest and catchiest albums about growing old in some time. Granted, Rigby, a veteran of such New York acts as The Shams and The Last Roundup, could hardly be considered old, but in terms of rock 'n' roll, any sign of domesticity might as well be a bid for retirement. Rigby proved that singing about raising kids and keeping house does not preclude a music career, and she did so with an abundance of hooks. Perhaps because it mined similarly semi-autobiographical territory, Middlescence went unfairly under-heard, but its songs are just as strong as their predecessors. Sensing the distracting tendency of her solid concepts, Rigby has returned with The Sugar Tree, a collection of personal but mostly unrelated songs that are still incredibly smart and sharp. Produced in her hometown of Nashville, it once again falls somewhere between country music and classic girl-group confection, with Rigby's lyrics remaining some of the most bitterly cynical dissections of life this side of Randy Newman. Rigby has a special way of displaying her vulnerability in "Let Me In A Little Bit" and "Angel After Hours," but she never comes across as weak. "You Get To Me," "Better Stay Gone," "Stop Showing Up In My Dreams," and "Balls" all seem directed at some missing lover Rigby can't (or won't) forget, just in case he decides to come back. Though she's as edgy and honest as Liz Phair, Rigby couches her emotions in pop music so the hurt all but disappears, but The Sugar Tree's sneers are clearly disguised as smiles. "Home is where it hurts the most," Rigby sings in "You Get To Me," and the line rings true regardless of the context.