PHOTOS: RICHIE DOWNS | Because Nikki Lane has a portrayed herself so effectively in videos as a snarling, dangerously vindictive woman who burns down the motorcycle of a cheatin’ ex, a kind of vengeful angel with a terminal “Thelma & Louise” complex, it was a little alarming to see her take the stage with a little puppy for her show at Gypsy Sally’s last Friday.
Given her persona, I almost thought she’d strangle the little thing on stage.
But no, she was quite affectionate to the little mutt she obtained at some charity event along the road. And while it was adorable that Clyde Barker, as he was called, licked the faces of Lane and her duet partner Frankie Lee during the show, she mostly put him away backstage and concentrated on her twangy and kickin’ country rock set.
After a debut album Walk of Shame that got some attention particularly for its title track, she dialed it up a notch or two with a Dan Auerbach-produced All or Nothin’ on New West Records last year, whose tuneful hard-rocking echoed a Wanda Jackson with a distinctly modern sensibility, a fully rockabilly fashion sense and a knack for smart phrases.
In “Right Time,” she’s warding off 2 a.m. booty calls, considering stealing a Shelby from the country club valet and knocking on Willie Nelson’s tour bus for a toke, all under the rubric “It’s always the right time to do the wrong thing.”
“I ain’t looking for love, just a little danger,” she sings on “Sleep with a Stranger.” And she yells, as Loretta Lynn would, for a layabout guy to “Man Up.”
Under that sass and declaration, though, there’s some vulnerability on gorgeous ballads like “Love’s on Fire” (which she did with Lee, the opener from Minnesota). Even embedded in warnings like “You Can’t Talk to Me Like That” are frank admissions that “It’s starting to mess with my mind.”
Life on the road for Lane reflects the bumpy path of her relationships. “You notice the guy who’s not in my band this time out?” she said at one point. She explained that a bad marriage earlier in her young life paid off in the 30 songs she wrote about it. But divorce itself was tough because it was tough to serve papers to a van. The result is some good stagecraft: she can remove and drop her wedding ring to the ground during one crucial kiss off tune.
Picking up the clanging ring for her was the task of guitarist Alex Muñoz, who otherwise was in charge of the big sounding twang and inventive soloing; he and especially drummer Ben Eyestone provided the kind of backing that energized a barroom but often, perhaps because of a faulty sound mix, obscured the nuance of the singer.
The full vocal versatility of Lane came through only when things quieted down enough in a ballad here or there, but she had enough of a commanding personality to be an effective focal point all night. A tall drink of water in tight jeans and boots, her sense of style is such that she’s already opened a vintage clothing store in Nashville called High Class Hillbilly.
Lane is still at an early enough point in her career to be surprised and delighted that people know her songs and were singing them back to her, and is still having a little too much fun on the road, ordering rounds to celebrate a little too much the birthdays of two of her band members.
There were a couple of new songs in the set, including one that shows that she is capable of moving her bullseye away from failed romantic partners and instead is jabbing a business relationship.
As good as her material is, she’s also sharp at choosing covers. The Buddy Miller cover “Gasoline and Matches” fit right in with her attitude and occasional penchant for pyromania. But she also topped the set with the relatively more soothing Dylan standard, “You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere.”
And despite her tough stance of taking charge and standing up to men, she had a soft enough spot in her heart for that puppy to bring him back out at the end as well.
FRANKIE LEE
