Kathy Mattea

Some musicians pursue their art uncompromisingly, content to be heard only by small cells of like-minded souls. Others, with dollar signs in their eyes, aim for broad common denominators. But rare indeed are the bridge-builders who succeed in bri nging the serious-minded creations of a small musical subculture before a large public. Kathy Mattea is one of these. Her field is country, and over the last seven years or so, she has spent her share of time in the country Top 10. But she doesn't soun d like any other modern country singer. Neither a sentiment-drenched traditionalist nor a flashy purveyor of what's now called "young" country," Mattea climbed into view by seeking out and exploiting the quiet strengths of folk music, a natural but in re cent decades very much estranged cousin to country.

The instrumental accompaniment on most of her recordings is fine and spare. She's put plenty of acoustic pickers on the payroll, so you'll hear a lot of mandolin and twanging dobro backing her up. Some of her songs feature the sprightly ragtime rhy thms of old-timey folk. Mattea's voice is a clear, rich contralto that both respects the text and suffuses its warmth into your brain.

But it's in choosing songs that Mattea really excels. Her repertoire reconciles the blue-collar country anthem with the dense poetry of folk and comtemporary bluegrass, and it is in part her influence that has brought a host of folk singer-songwrite rs to the country-music capital of Nashville. Mattea made hits of folksinger Nanci Griffith's "Love at the Five and Dime" and bluegrass stalwart Larry Cordle's "Lonesome Standard Time," exposing to an audience of millions the work of writers who would ot herwise be known only in quite restricted circles.

Another Fine folk song she popularized was Tim O'Brien's "Untold Stories":

All of those untold stories.
All of those silent lies--
We'll never know each other,
Keepin' them deep inside.