{image1}Amy Rigby would be a hoot to have as a next-door neighbor. Invite her over for a drink and she could help you make sense of it all, or at least crack you up trying. A wry cynic, she has a way of putting problems to music and making them amusing annoyances rather than life and death struggles.
Rigby, who described herself as someone who searches for the rip in the silver lining on 2003's "Till the Wheels Fall Off," is no up-with-people optimist. So you wouldn't expect her new album, "Little Fugitive" (Signature Records), to be filled with sunny ditties about modern life.
It's no surprise, then, that "Little Fugitive" has Rigby exploring key issues such as death, physical abuse, ex-wives that are too nice to hate, and needy men. And as usual, she does it with a dark sense of humor and hook-laden melodies that make it hard not to listen, or even smirk.
Rigby is obviously a survivor, referring to herself as Rasputin in the opening cut, "Like Rasputin," where she sings of being attacked in 1981 but "like Rasputin, I get back up again." She sings "life reduced this girl to ashes/Think I'm done? I'm not done," with a chugging rhythm that makes the song more of a defiant anthem than a cry for help.
On "Needy Men," a song with a melody that's just this side of cloying -- anytime a clarinet pops up there's trouble -- she complains that needy men are always calling on the phone, "never leaving well-enough alone," and she observes that they never got their mother's love, "so they want yours, of course."
"Dancing with Joey Ramone" is an undeniably danceable tribute to the late, great Joey, including a closing where the band kicks into a Ramones tempo complete with the 1-2-3-4 countdown. "Always with Me" is haunting and melodic, yet somehow creepy, as though Rigby wrote it while turning the lights off and on and listening to "Madame Butterfly."
But "Little Fugitive" reaches a high point "The Trouble With Jeannie," a mid-tempo rocker in which she describes her inability to hate her husband's ex-wife. "The trouble with Jeannie is she's so nice," she sings, "would someone explain to me this modern life?"
Only on "So You Know Now," a bit of Beatlesesque psychedelia, does Rigby indulge in obscure lyricism and metaphor that interrupts the flow of the rest of the album.
Alas, even coming in at just under 40 minutes, "Little Fugitive" becomes a bit like the guest who won't leave. By the time you get to "The Year of the Fling," you begin to lose interest in Rigby's views of the world's problems and your attention begins to drift.
Still, Rigby is an intelligent, wry songwriter who has an ear for dark lyrics and bright melodies. With a plaintive voice that sounds like she's either on the verge of laughter or tears, Rigby has produced another solid album that deserves attention. Of course, given the state of modern radio, that probably means she's doomed to obscurity.
