In my humble and highly suspect and subjective opinion, I'm not sure Kelly Hogan needs a six-piece band backing her up.

The first time I saw Kelly, she was playing with Bill Taft in what later became known as their "Kick Me" shows. It was January, 1993 in a tiny little coffeeshop in Tallahassee, Florida, and the only two sounds in the room were Taft's guitar and Hogan's voice. It was the duo's first ballsy, show-must-go-on tour after the highway claimed the lives of half their previous band, the Jody Grind, just months earlier. The performance was one of the most tragic, powerful and magical moments I've ever seen, and almost holy in its austerity.

But when Hogan veers away from her Spartan-bohemian aesthetic, she gets results like her debut solo record: a watered-down reworking of her brilliant changepurse of songs from the legendary and uranium-rare Kick Me self-distributed cassette. Over-arranged and over-produced, the disc was the first sign of the negative impact Taft's absence might have. Then, one of her more recent live performances was marred by her frequent glowers and scowls at Andy Hopkins, including a singled-out dressing-down of the guitarist at the end of a particular song he rushed along at a forced death march pace.

And while we're on the subject, I wonder about the growing influence of Hopkins, a member of Hogan's regular backing band... now all the "Let's Get Stinko Music" writing credits on Beneath the Country Underdog are shared billing. Though they aren't the worst songs on the album, they aren't the best, either.

So now she's got a full band complement, whether she needs it or not. I'll concede that for a project such as this one-- a resuscitation of the ethic of the silver age of country and western-- it's a necessary evil. Which is why I approach this as more a Kelly Hogan project and less an equitable collaboration or even a guest vocal shot with a band in their own right. Chalk it up to reviewer bias.

Kelly Hogan is one of those rare singers who can coax tears by singing a single note (no, I mean in a good way). At her best, she did that in every single song. These days, it's more like once per album. In the case of Beneath the Country Underdog that touching, gooseflesh-raising moment comes in "Papa Was a Rodeo," a song penned by the Magnetic Fields' Stephin Merritt. Paced and poignant, Hogan's drawled soprano beatifies the track. The rest of the album, with the exception mentioned above, is merely excellent, and Hogan simply mortal.

Hogan's been busy recently, guesting for everyone from John Wesley Harding to Bonnie "Prince" Billy, and all the favors get called in for this one. The guest list is as long as a White House coffee fundraiser's. Harding as well as Edith Frost, Ana Eggs, Mike Geier, and a host of lesser-known names all peek in.

But backstory, personnel, and Kelly's always-on singing aside, the songs are the most fascinating part of the album. As they should be. Mixed equally among the 11 tracks are five Hogan/Hopkins originals. They're up to par, albeit a little corny in parts, especially "Crackers Rule" and "I Don't Believe in You." There's only one truly cringe-worthy track, the sickening "Wild Mountain Berries"-- an ill-advised too-campy-for-its-own-good duet with "Rudy Day" Hopkins. In stark contrast is the Cosmonaut-penned "Mystery," written by guitarist/Mekon Jon Langford.

As far as the rest of the covers, you aren't playing the odds if you expect anything written by Willie Nelson to be worse than below average, especially a standout like the haunting "I Still Can't Believe You're Gone." Freddie Hart's #1 hit, "Easy Loving," finds Hogan nailing a dead-on Patsy Cline clone croon. And the Band's "Whispering Pines" is welcome, if familiar, company as the disc's closer.

I wanted to view Beneath the Country Underdog as an exorcism of Kelly Hogan's traditional C&W; demonic influences-- signed, sealed and recorded, and then back to the dark, quirky pop again. However, the adoration Hogan displays for the material put that idea to bed quick enough. She has a crush on the genre. But unlike most crushes, this one might just be requited.

-John Dark