For the past few weeks i’ve lived in Nashville-land. Not the city itself, but the so called country music that represents it. It’s been a rough stay. I’ve got a grin plastered on my face that doesn’t at all represent my current emotional state and is making my face hurt, my teeth are dry, i’m speaking in trite cliches that make people think i’m developmentally slow, and my only topic of conversation seems to be “shallow love gone wrong” even though I currently have no reason to talk about that particular topic, nor is it at all relevant to the world at large right now. I feel stale, and cheesy, and pre-packaged… lowest-common-denominator-ish. It’s bad. I need to detox.

Needless to say i was a little apprehensive when i saw Jesse Terry had submitted to TuneJar. I was, and am, in no mood to listen to formulaic schlock. Fortunately, Jesse Terry gave me a soothing bath…ummmmm…that sounds wrong. After listening to Jesse though i feel like i’ve just been loofa’d, scrubbed clean of pop country filth, and suddenly have a renewed hope in what country can be, and should be, coming out of Nashville.

This is honestly some of the best country music i’ve heard in awhile. The three songs you’ll hear here are the epitome of showing diversity in style, pristine musicianship, and excellent songwriting while still staying true to country roots. “The Runner” sounds like The Eagles if they had originated about a 1000 miles east of Colorado, “Pray It’s not the Delta” is country through and through, and “Lay Your Hands On Me” brings soul into a music genre that often should be the most soulful but unfortunately isn’t. Jesse wraps all of this in a voice that is actually…well…good. That’s hard to come by in country music. There is no affectation in the southern lilt. It’s honest and effortless. Unlike the Chesney’s and Atkin’s of the country world, he doesn’t hide a bad voice with a ridiculous twangy delivery. This is real.

Here’ the thing that’s extremely telling and sad to me though. It may have been a necessity of the form he had to fill out, but you’ll notice Jess clarified his sub-genre as being Alt-Country. This stuff shouldn’t be the alternative, it should be the heart of the genre. The should BE the genre. Unfortunately it’s not. Hopefully Jess will change that.

There are very few unsigned artists out there talking about the “craft” of songwriting. That kind of talk is normally relegated to music writers, who only break it out on songsters like Leanord Cohen or Tom Waits. So when Angela Wood told me she’d spent years studying the craft of songwriting, I was both suprised and not surprised.

The truth about Angela Wood is that she IS a crafty songwriter. She’s both witty and candid, honest and sassy. The first song I heard of her’s was called “Old Guitar,” which reminded me of Ben Harper’s “Diamond’s On The Inside.” It’s a well written country yarn about getting involved with a man with a reputation for womanizing. In it her voice was both pleading and playful, aching and angry. Gosh it’s a subtle thing, but I couldn’t decide if I wanted to hug her or hi-five her.

Though there’s a serious country slant to her singing style, she says she wants to be like Bonnie Raitt “because she doesn’t have a genre.” She achieves this sort of “out of the box” mostly though her lyricism. My biggest problem with most country songs is the abhorent lack of symbolism more complicated than a simile; Angela is neither afraid nor unacquainted with metaphor. Listen to “Don’t Need Me Now” and “Lost Myself” for a taste of this. She states things both simply and poetically- not heady or cerebral, just intelligent. I’ll take that from a lyricist anyday.

The truth about Angela Wood is she is a truly prolific melodicist. Most artists keep safely to there signature stylings, but Angela has a surprising and haunting hook in every one of her tunes. You can usually find it in the main chorus melody, but in “Get It Right,” you can hear several more in the background vocals- she layers hooky snippets on top of the big hook, and the physical response it requires is pressing the “repeat” button.

So here’s where I stop being impressed, and start just being jealous. The truth about Angela Wood is that she’s a singer. Not like Faith Hill or Shania Twain; Angela’s voice is riddled with nuance and vulnerability. In one moment she’ll sound almost weak, and the next she’ll burst into a sassy country belt, which you can hear in “Don’t Touch My Man.” She consistently surprises me, and I’m willing to bet she’ll surprise you too.

The truth about Angela Wood is that she’s an honest to goodness undiscovered startlett, and I’m honestly excited to watch her career blossom.

Hailing from Canada, influenced by whiskey and cigarettes (according to his MySpace page)…sounds ‘bout right. “What’s wrong with everyone,” Dyjecinski sings on Song about Her. “What’s wrong with me?” Acoustic guitar—he probably has a name for it; I’m thinking Jenny—I’m picturing him on a porch, in the fall sun, with Canadian foliage and shit on the ground. Or at least in a room that’s comfortable.

So, nothing man. Nothing’s wrong with you. Dyjecinski’s biggest problem is that his name is unpronounceable. Which is a good thing. His music churns lo-fi. Minimalist. Easy and true.

The girl singing with him on Untitled 1 recalls the female accompaniment to Neil Young’s “Old Man.” But Untitled burns slower, warms the skin, like…whiskey! On a freight train. Strings purring behind him, a raspy, throaty twang, Dyjecinski stirs old-town blues, folk and country honky-tonk so that A Year and a Half of Rain conjures dusty trails, women—why can’t they just be good to me?—and authenticity.