This came out in 2001 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
Last year, underdog country vocalist Shelby Lynne released her sixth and best CD: The spectacular I Am Shelby Lynne, a disc that established her as a tough, sexy songstress and ironically won her a Grammy for best new artist.
Now, Lynne — or perhaps her manager or label — apparently wants to capitalize by plugging her into the starmaker machinery and making her the next Shania or Sheryl or something similar. So on the disappointing sellout Love, Shelby, she poses for a bunch of ridiculous cheesecake snaps, hooks up with superstar shlockmeister Glen Ballard and waters down her powerful, rootsy sound with layers of overproduced faux soul and pop-rock. What a waste. The only saving graces are Shelby’s magnificent, haunting alto and her songwriting (at least on the few tracks Ballard doesn’t have a hand in), which just make it clear she has too much talent to be treating herself so shabbily. Shelby, put some clothes back on, stop listening to whoever told you this was a good idea and start listening to your heart — and your last album.
