Sep 4th 2:49 PM

Loveless: back in the ‘Mood’

by Peter Cooper, Tennessean Staff writer

Adolescent girls on in-line skates rolled through Fido’s coffeehouse, precariously transporting heavily creamed cups of java past country star Patty Loveless’ booth.

“Country has always been an adult-type music,” said Loveless, whose 13-year recording career has included some of the most intelligent, evocative and adult songs of her genre’s era.

This may explain why the highly mobile youngsters remained oblivious to the multimillion-seller’s proximity when they would certainly notice a Backstreet Boy (or even a Twain). Or it may be that, before the release of her current single, "That’s the Kind of Mood I’m In," Loveless has been absent from the radio landscape for quite some time. The layoff was self-imposed, a reasoned reaction to professional burnout and personal trials, if facets of a public life can ever be personal.

“The reality of it hit me in 1996,” she said in a quiet voice. “This was after my sister passed away (in 1995) and after my husband came home from the hospital. ...I almost lost him. It took years for me to win the CMA female vocalist, and that night I danced and smiled. But by the time I got home and got on the couch, I bawled my eyes out,” she continued. “I cried so hard, thinking, ‘I should be happy. What is wrong?’ I finally faced the reality that life is going by very fast and you have to make some time for yourself.”

Loveless did not immediately put a stop to things. In 1997, she released the critically acclaimed "Long Stretch of Lonesome," though she was not satisfied that it was on par with her best work. “I wasn’t given...or I did not give myself...the time to grieve,” she said. “I had to jump in there and do a record, and it was very hard for me. I was having a hard time finding some really good up-tempo songs. And with the touring, I felt like with every year I was repeating myself, but just adding a few new songs.”

Loveless’ life to that point had been something of a balancing act. A Kentucky-born child of close-knit, highly protective parents, she left her country roots to wither for a time, rebelling against her family and her bluegrass-heavy musical upbringing (she sang with the Wilburn Brothers early on) and shifting into heavy rock ‘n’ roll mode.

In the mid-1970’s, she was married to drummer Terry Lovelace, living in Kings Mountain, N.C., drinking too much, wearing spandex onstage and singing songs from the catalogues of Led Zeppelin and Pat Benatar.

“It made me who I am,” she said. “I had a lot of things to learn about.”

Debbie Bridges of Bridge’s Barbecue Lodge in Shelby, N.C., just down the road from Kings Mountain, worked with Loveless at the time. “She wasn’t a big, showy person, but the band played hard rock,” Bridges said of Loveless. “These were beer-drinking clubs where they played. She worked here, making sandwiches in the kitchen, slinging hash. She always said she was going to make it as a singer.”

Making it involved kicking substance problems, ending the marriage, moving to Nashville, subtly shifting her married name of Lovelace to Loveless and tipping the scale back towards the country music of her childhood.

Once in Nashville, she and brother Roger Ramey knocked on doors and handed out demo tapes. One of those tapes found favor with MCA’s Tony Brown and producer Emory Gordy, Jr.

“They had both played with Emmylou Harris and with Elvis,” Loveless said. “They were pulling on things they knew, trying to take this young artist in 1985 and find things that fit her.”

Those things came to include hits "If My Heart Had Windows," "Don’t Toss Us Away," "Chains," "I’m That Kind of Girl," and others.

Loveless eventually married Gordy and shifted to Epic Records, and the balancing no longer nvolved weighing rock against country or a wild streak against family values.

By 1994, the trick was to balance honest, adult music with chart-friendly product: something Lovelesss and (now sole producer) Gordy have done as well as any other act of the past decade, finding smart yet commercially viable songs writers such as Gary Nicholson, Gretchen Peters, Tim Krekel, Jim Lauderdale and Matraca Berg.

But finding the songs is only part of the battle. Maintaining a respectful art/commerce balance in today’s inane radio climate is often immeasurably frustrating. Case in point: the difficult, late 1990’s chart ride of the Lauderdale-penned "You Don’t Seem To Miss Me," a plaintive, lovely song enhanced by backing vocals from George Jones. As You Don’t Seem To Miss Me rose into the Top 10, several radio stations refused to play it all, citing Jones’ involvement as the barrier. The legendary George Jones, the stations reasoned, was not appropriate for “hot country” radio.

“They said they would play it if it were remixed,” said Jack Lameier, who promoted the song to radio. “They didn’t want George in the mix. Some of the markets we’re talking about were major, and you couldn’t take the song all the way (to No. 1) unless you had everyone on board.”

The stations’ request that the song be remixed was denied, and Loveless was left with a record that helped sell albums and win fans, but did not hit the chart’s top spot.

“Bruce Springsteen told me he’s a fan of that song,” Loveless said. “That means more to me than any No. 1 record.”

As that song’s chart run ended, Loveless was feeling more and more stressed. Gordy’s surgeries to relieve severe pancreatitis in 1996 came on the heels of Loveless’ sister’s death, and career accolades surrounding Long Stretch of Lonesome did little to convince the singer that her time was best spent on the road.

And so she simply quit working. “I went away for awhile,” she said. “I have a collection of albums by Otis Redding, Etta James, Percy Sledge, Tina Turner and other people, and I sat down and enjoyed it. I’d gotten to the point where music just passed through me like water, but I took time to really get something from music again. And now I feel rejuvenated.”

More than a year of rest was followed by a new album, the just-released "Strong Heart." The 10-song collection begins not with another in a successful line of “Sad Patty” ballads but with the bouncy, poppy You’re So Cool, a song about an adult’s version of a schoolgirl crush.

“I don’t want to just keep on repeating,” she said. “I wanted to have fun on this record, and not just be pegged as singing heartbreak songs. I know I’m an emotional singer, but I want to make people happy, as well as being their therapist.”

In truth, Strong Heart is not so drastic a departure from earlier albums. "She Never Stopped Loving Him," "My Heart Will Never Break This Way Again" and the title song are sad and slow. "The Last Thing on My Mind" is topped with Kentucky-style harmonies from Rebecca Lynn Howard and Ricky Skaggs, and even "You’re So Cool’s" spoken asides harken to 1990’s hit "I Try To Think About Elvis."

The album is neither a “been-there-done-that” retread nor a foray into unknown territory. It is simply another Patty Loveless album, Made for adults whose wheels are underneath automobiles, not for kids on Rollerblades.

“I’m not trying to capture the Britney Spears audience,” she said. “I know my age and I know what clothes I can wear and what I can’t. I think I know myself better now than I ever have, and I know what I can accept and what I’m here to do, and I’m not here to be doing what Shania Twain is doing or what Faith Hill is doing.'

“I’m not here to copy. I want to be inspired and influenced by music, and takng that inspiration into what I do. When I decided to take the time off, I think what was happening is I was losing my heart to sing. And now I have that back.”

(Tennessean music writer Peter Cooper can be reached at 259-8220 or by email at pcooper@tennessean.com)