Pitchfork

Once upon a time, all country singers aspired to play the Grand Ole Opry. Or at least that's what Robert Altman taught me. Today, even though the Opry has sunk to a C-list country music channel and hocked itself as the setting for a reality TV show, some of the luster of the old red barn backdrop still remains. But for the lowly denizens of the alt-country world, a performance at the Opry remains far out of reach.

Nevertheless, Neko Case almost made herself into prime material for a Disney underdog biopic by defying these odds, drawing an invite to an Opry-related event (if not the actual stage) in 2002. Alas, the potential for her to be triumphantly portrayed by Julia Roberts was squandered at that same event, when she was ceremoniously banned from the Grand Ole for shirtlessness-- a piece of lore that appeared, usually in exaggerated form, as the wacky story in every Case profile until her infamous Playboy poll victory ("Sexiest Babe of Indie Rock", April 2003). Whatever the saucy details, Case must now settle for the same minor-league version of the Opry as her peers, the Austin-based and PBS-supported Austin City Limits.

Not that ACL is anything to scoff at; the show has seen hundreds of artists give intimate soundstage performances gentle and non-threatening enough to fit between Jim Lehrer and "Nova". Case's unimpeachable combination of cred and rootsy traditionalism would seem to make her obvious programming for this timeslot. But Case as a performer is a less-than-perfect tenant for the Austin skyline, as reflected by this August 2003 live set which comprises the latest installment in the Austin City Limits CD/DVD series.

On her prior live album, The Tigers Have Spoken, Case sounded at home in the boozier environment of the rock club, trading licks and harmonies with members of the Sadies on originals and spiritual covers. Here, Case chooses a stripped-down band-- only banjo or slide and bass accompanying her rhythm guitar-- and the show's producers oblige by mixing her voice twice as loud as any other instrument present in the recording. Locking the spotlight on Case's vocoder-flexible, mousse-rich voice is the obvious directorial call, but so sparse an approach undercuts her less-touted gifts as a songwriter, draining the texture out of tracks like "Outro With Bees" and "Knock Loud" and leaving only half-finished husks behind. This doesn't apply to every track-- no amount of minimalism can dispel the dramatic fog that pervades "Deep Red Bells" or "Furnace Room Lullaby"-- but minus the cavernous reverb and home-recorded coziness of her recorded work, Case can only rely on her flair for disturbing digression (the gory deer-dream of "Favorite") to add a creepily unique edge to what passes for love songs in her songbook.

Unsurprisingly then, the ACL soundstage sounds more natural on the covers Case chooses, be it folk standard "Wayfaring Stranger" or Bob Dylan's "Buckets of Rain". Even Lisa Marr's "In California"-- as textbook a TV drama soundtrack song as I've ever heard-- is improved by Case's gentle reading, taming her vocal weaponry just enough to avoid drowning the song's melancholy in slippery notes and twang. That voice, that voice, that voice; so technically sharp and character-rich, it keeps hogging the attention, especially in this empty environment.

Where her recorded work uses shadowy mood and ragged edges to evade any diva accusations and make her albums safe for those who listen to "everything but country," the Austin City Limits performance finds her playing her talents straight. While Case's voice may have been her ticket to the Opry, this record is proof that, even in more humble surroundings, it's unsatisfying to hear her lean too hard on that crutch.