Karly Driftwood does not play nice. Nor does she play by the rules. But she’s definitely playing for keeps. The audacious Nashville singer-songwriter pulls no punches and takes no crap on her debut disc Too Mean to Die, an alt-country album rude and ribald enough to make Miranda Lambert blush. Over 10 songs and 37 minutes, Driftwood brags of stripping her way to Music City, owns up to self-medicating with weed, whiskey, pills and codeine, threatens to feed an ex cake laced with broken glass and cyanide, calls out her fake-ass friends and pathetic boyfriends, steals the Grim Reaper’s scythe and insists she’s “a little bit country, a little Sylvia Plath.” I don’t know about all that. But I do know she co-wrote all but one of these songs, has a mouth like a drunken sailor and displays more attitude than all the Lower Broadway wannabes rolled into one. With all that going for her, it’s only a matter of time until she gets what she’s after. I would not suggest getting in her way. Unless you have a hankering for a slice of broken glass and cyanide, of course.
