AllMusic Review by Thom Jurek [-]
Down in Natchez, Mississippi, just across the river from Jerry Lee Lewis' Ferriday, Louisiana, guitarist, songwriter and singer Maggie Brown is remaking American roots music in her own image. Her self-titled debut is steeped in grease, honky tonk, blues, R&B, and the best of America's singer/songwriter tradition. And Brown can play the hell out of a guitar. Sure, she listened to Bonnie Raitt, but she also listened to Sonny Landreth, Delaney and Bonnie, Rory Block, and Delbert McClinton. Pure, rural, Southern soul drips from every single line she plays and cascades like hard water bubbling up from the rich black soil and falls from her mouth. In the grain of her big, clear, throaty voice is the sound of real heartbreak; one that sings of hard times from the center of experiencing them. But in it is also hard-won acceptance, and the vulnerable but wily will to transcend; every nuance, trill or groan digging a little deeper to express it. Brown's band is a country-rock combo augmented in places with a B3 or piano here, a cello there, and a ringing weave of electric and acoustic guitars. When she rocks, she rolls. The opener, "Forty Dollars," offers a falling scale of acoustic chords, kissed by a droning electric as she intones: "Forty dollars worth of Lyle Lovett/Twenty dollars worth of gas/Might not get her back to Texas/ But she might outrun the past..." The electric sixes wind their way in snake-like, until the refrain when they crash in with anthemic authority as she soars over them. On "full Moon Over Dallas," a dobro whines over mandolins and acoustic guitars as the protagonist speaks with aching resignation across the miles into a humming phone line to long lost love with the night as witness: "I look outside my window/And the darkness ain't so dark/... And I sat right down and got my heart to thinking...There's a full moon over Dallas/And you ain't here to see it... And the reason that I called you... I'm lonesome and this night don't seem to end/I guess this full moon over Dallas ain't my friend..." The roiling country-rock of "Used Cars," juxtaposes the protagonists' wish to lie to herself about a love affair with the dubious occupation of selling pre-owned automobiles. There's desperation here, but there's also humor. In "Jacob's Eyes," a mother looks at her sleeping son and accompanied by accordion, an acoustic guitar, and her own world-wise heart, wishes she could enjoy his blind optimism. The steamy, raw, hip-twitching sensuality of "Mosquito Net" is a testament to illicit sex via bluesed-out rock and R&B. But it is on the elegiac "Shame," where above a whinnying pedal steel percussion and acoustic guitars, Brown offers shared blame for a love that is ending in the heart of the night when answers are no longer possible and delusions can no longer be constructed to hide the truth. This album is a stunner, impure, in-the-bone poetry. Only Lucinda Williams self-titled effort for Rough Trade way back in 1984 begs comparison -- and not for sound or similarity, but quality. On this fine album, Maggie Brown arrives a fully formed artist, tough, graceful, and startling. - ALL Music

Maggie's self-titled debut is 44 minutes of confident and perfectly executed songs. When she's not rocking on songs like "Forty Dollars," "Mosquito Net" or "Used Cars," she evokes a nostalgic and melancholic sense of storytelling. "Jacob's Eyes" reminds me of Pretender-era Jackson Browne. Shifting from fourth-gear rockers to ballads and mid-tempo songs is another charm of this album. "Black River" is Lucinda's "Change The Locks" as seen through the eyes of Chris Whitley's "Big Sky Country." "Just constant reminders of where I woke up/and nowhere to go but home," Maggie sings on the beautifully orchestrated "Crazy," a distant cousin to John Prine's "Angel Of Montgomery" and Sheryl Crow's "Home." It's one of the highlights on the record. "Full Moon" is an equal partner to Jimmie Dale Gilmore's "Dallas" that captures the lyrical beauty and sweeping brevity of what I call Southernacana-a transformative twist on the "Americana" label. And like some of the greatest Southern musicians and literary writers, Brown's songs capture a sense of place, a love of community and family, the curious influence of religion and race, yet aspire to universal appeal. "Lots of people give me labels," says Brown. "I'm a product of the South. I'm just happy that I got to make this record. I set out to record these songs I been carrying around with me. I'd love to get a regional following-if any of these songs make a connection, I guess the rest will follow." And with any good sense, many music lovers will follow the trail to Brown's wonderful debut album. - Bruce Warren

There is no doubt that the alt-country revolution has exploded onto the music scene. The success of artists like Lucinda Williams and Patty Griffin has opened up the doors for a new breed of female country artists. Maggie Brown is one of the new breed and she’s going to make some waves. She’s the complete package; a solid guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter. Her debut album is a reminder of just how damn good country music can be when you strip away all the pop gloss and get back to basics. Maggie’s husky vocal style is one of the few that leaves me stumped to draw comparisons. At times she will remind you of Lucinda Williams or Kathleen Edwards but neither is really all that accurate. In a world of sound alike singers it’s refreshing to hear an instantly identifiable voice. “Forty Dollars” opens the album and sets the tone for the rest of the record. It’s an in-your-face recording with Maggie’s huge voice soaring above an energetic band. The roaring “Used Cars” expertly blends a rock attitude with solid country songwriting. A funky acoustic riff drives “I Like It” through many repeat listens. “Wasted” and “Mosquito Net” are wonderfully rocking winners. The stringed instrument opening on “No Where To Go But Crazy” is so jarringly different from the rest of the album that the delicate ballad stands out even more than it normally would. It’s hard to pull off such a radical style shift but Maggie does it with ease. The haunting “Shame” is further proof that Maggie isn’t just a one trick pony. Rarely does an artist come along whose sound is so completely realized right from the first track. Maggie Brown has delivered one of the best debut albums I’ve ever heard and sets a high benchmark for other records coming out this year. It’s only January and here is one of the albums which will end up making the short list of “must have” releases of the year. Maggie Brown is the real deal. - Jeff Krasky