Shelby Lynne

There's a critical hoopla surrounding Shelby Lynne, who has deserted her repressively mainstream Nashville past for a Dusty Springfield-in-Memphis makeover. But behind the hype - proving that if you sell critics a hard-done-by story you're guaranteed rave reviews - is a very nice record whose occasional flourishes of beauty are overshadowed by its translucent inoffensiveness. Lynne shines best on the subtle Sunday morning acoustic songs ("Leavin'," "Black Light Blue") or unabashed bubble gum ("Dreamsome"). She doesn't offer any grand soul salvation, but instead has more in common with Linda Ronstadt and Fleetwood Mac: pleasant pop for suburban hearts. Nothing wrong with that, but I'll take Sheryl Crow any day. Or Kelly Hogan.