Directed by Randee St. Nicholas

LOVE, SHELBY
Produced by Glen Ballard
Island/Def Jam Records
Released November 2001

This is the hardest record to write about.

Love, Shelby has a soul. But it’s a lonely, abandoned one. 

After the success of I AM Shelby Lynne the label wasted no time in wanting a follow up to it.  I was reluctant, wanted to wait a while until I made the right decisions on how to move forward with my music. I had a huge dilemma with the way I was thinking things through. I wanted to keep riding the good wave but my instincts told me to be careful about jumping back in. I wish I had listened.

When the record came out the critics had a fucking field day, slammed it to the wall and squashed it like a bug. I figured they would kill it but I had no idea just how badly they would destroy it, me, and every song. It was awful. I went from critically acclaimed to beat up and ashamed in one heartbeat. 

I am confessing to you how it is ingrained in me to destroy myself.  All true artists have that ability and the continual fight to not allow that trait to take us over is the great battle. But then if we won the battle we wouldn’t be creators, and we certainly wouldn’t be able to create. 

An artist changes even when they don’t know they are doing it.

Waves of confusion come in and creativity becomes clouded when there is money or uncreative people involved. Money is the ruination of art. If art is forced for any reason except through inspiration it will die faster than a fish out of water.  Then it’s hard to distinguish the difference between the grounded art or the artist. They both will die on the beach. Even on the constant road searching for enlightenment, the battle rages on.

Art made correctly will stir, twist, and activate emotions in people. It takes a strong stomach to be able to accept what we are given by artists sometimes because we don’t like to change what we are comfortable in. The world gets cozy with what they know and what they like and change is difficult for most. 

I wanted change. I survive on change as an artist. When an artist does things for other people or for the wrong reasons it always shows in the art.

There was a big Hollywood movie coming out called Bridget Jones Diary and they were searching the record business for songs to place in the soundtrack. The label wanted a “big” POP record from me to throw into the pile and they wanted Glen Ballard to produce it. He is an undeniable, fierce, brilliantly talented, mad professor genius. He plays the piano like he would woo the desired woman but he plays the guitar like the mistress he longs to have as his own but will never possess. I was a fan of Glen’s work but had never really thought about working with him before because of his history in making big POP records, just not my style. But I thought what the Hell, he’s brilliant and I want to try it, so we got together. I had a lot of songs I had written on my own waiting on the time to make another record. So when we got together and started looking for tunes for the film I presented Killin’ Kind to him and he loved it. So he gathered some killer musicians and we made a session date at Sunset Sound one evening and cut it. 

We even did a very high priced video of me rolling around on the beach like a silly ass trying to be some kind of pseudo POP star. It just wasn’t me. I look back now, even 15 years ago and I know it wasn’t me I was seeing or trying to be. Killin’ Kind made it onto the soundtrack for Bridget Jones Diary, and even managed to get a little airplay and a push from the label because of the film. But it was the beginning of the end for me at this label. They threw the record against the wall and it did not stick. It was a dud. So I asked off the label before they had the chance to drop me. 

Anytime I feel like my art is compromised by money, sterility, ass kissers, input from nut cases who don’t know a damn thing about a good song except for the dollar signs, I start retreating into my dark place. I knew I was making a mistake artistically even though it’s hard for me to admit it.

They let me off the label and I was free. I went back to Alabama, built some fences and sang to the pines for a while. My life as a POP star was short-lived. I needed to be where the birds were singing and the fish were biting.

Shiny copper is pretty but I prefer the worn-in patina it has after it’s been used a while. And I knew my soul was as ancient as Mamas old copper pot.

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Directed by Randee St. Nicholas

LOVE, SHELBY
Produced by Glen Ballard
Island/Def Jam Records
Released November 2001

This is the hardest record to write about.

Love, Shelby has a soul. But it’s a lonely, abandoned one. 

After the success of I AM Shelby Lynne the label wasted no time in wanting a follow up to it.  I was reluctant, wanted to wait a while until I made the right decisions on how to move forward with my music. I had a huge dilemma with the way I was thinking things through. I wanted to keep riding the good wave but my instincts told me to be careful about jumping back in. I wish I had listened.

When the record came out the critics had a fucking field day, slammed it to the wall and squashed it like a bug. I figured they would kill it but I had no idea just how badly they would destroy it, me, and every song. It was awful. I went from critically acclaimed to beat up and ashamed in one heartbeat. 

I am confessing to you how it is ingrained in me to destroy myself.  All true artists have that ability and the continual fight to not allow that trait to take us over is the great battle. But then if we won the battle we wouldn’t be creators, and we certainly wouldn’t be able to create. 

An artist changes even when they don’t know they are doing it.

Waves of confusion come in and creativity becomes clouded when there is money or uncreative people involved. Money is the ruination of art. If art is forced for any reason except through inspiration it will die faster than a fish out of water.  Then it’s hard to distinguish the difference between the grounded art or the artist. They both will die on the beach. Even on the constant road searching for enlightenment, the battle rages on.

Art made correctly will stir, twist, and activate emotions in people. It takes a strong stomach to be able to accept what we are given by artists sometimes because we don’t like to change what we are comfortable in. The world gets cozy with what they know and what they like and change is difficult for most. 

I wanted change. I survive on change as an artist. When an artist does things for other people or for the wrong reasons it always shows in the art.

There was a big Hollywood movie coming out called Bridget Jones Diary and they were searching the record business for songs to place in the soundtrack. The label wanted a “big” POP record from me to throw into the pile and they wanted Glen Ballard to produce it. He is an undeniable, fierce, brilliantly talented, mad professor genius. He plays the piano like he would woo the desired woman but he plays the guitar like the mistress he longs to have as his own but will never possess. I was a fan of Glen’s work but had never really thought about working with him before because of his history in making big POP records, just not my style. But I thought what the Hell, he’s brilliant and I want to try it, so we got together. I had a lot of songs I had written on my own waiting on the time to make another record. So when we got together and started looking for tunes for the film I presented Killin’ Kind to him and he loved it. So he gathered some killer musicians and we made a session date at Sunset Sound one evening and cut it. 

We even did a very high priced video of me rolling around on the beach like a silly ass trying to be some kind of pseudo POP star. It just wasn’t me. I look back now, even 15 years ago and I know it wasn’t me I was seeing or trying to be. Killin’ Kind made it onto the soundtrack for Bridget Jones Diary, and even managed to get a little airplay and a push from the label because of the film. But it was the beginning of the end for me at this label. They threw the record against the wall and it did not stick. It was a dud. So I asked off the label before they had the chance to drop me. 

Anytime I feel like my art is compromised by money, sterility, ass kissers, input from nut cases who don’t know a damn thing about a good song except for the dollar signs, I start retreating into my dark place. I knew I was making a mistake artistically even though it’s hard for me to admit it.

They let me off the label and I was free. I went back to Alabama, built some fences and sang to the pines for a while. My life as a POP star was short-lived. I needed to be where the birds were singing and the fish were biting.

Shiny copper is pretty but I prefer the worn-in patina it has after it’s been used a while. And I knew my soul was as ancient as Mamas old copper pot.

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