Loretta Lynn, who blazed her way into country history in the 1960s and '70s as a pathbreaking artist unafraid of difficult subjects, a bold, blunt woman who broke through Nashville’s string-laden, Nudie suit-clad veneer and connected with a global audience, was, by the early 2000s, an afterthought. Her 2000 studio album, Still Country, was her first such effort in over a decade and offered just one original composition from the then-68-year-old Lynn, a far cry from her 1960s-70s period, when she’d author four or five tracks per record.
So it was a dazzling resurrection four years later, with the release of Lynn’s 42nd studio album, Van Lear Rose. The world rediscovered, through the careful stewardship of then-upstart Jack White, the prodigious talent who had not gone anywhere. Van Lear Rose, released on April 27, 2004, marks its 20thanniversary this year, and now, as then, it’s a vivid reminder that there is no expiration date on genius.
White was all of 28 years old and fresh from helping upend pop music with his visceral garage-rock duo The White Stripes when he signed on to produce Rose, which began life as a lark — blending Lynn’s tart, old-school country sensibility with White’s rough-and-rowdy garage rock attitude and seeing what resulted. The 13-track record was written entirely by Lynn — a first in her career, as she noted in the album’s liner notes — and it stands as a masterpiece among the many in her catalog.
Rose is a lovingly crafted tribute to the full spectrum of Lynn’s abilities, whether it’s lamenting marital strife (“Trouble on the Line”), spoken-word reminisces of childhood (“Little Red Shoes”), feisty anthems (“Portland Oregon,” a song Lynn had written years earlier but never recorded) or spiritual soliloquies (“God Makes No Mistakes”). The sensation is far from reverent — indeed, Rose’s brisk 39-minute run time can make the record feel as if it’s careening from one mood to the next, racing to showcase as much of her talent as is practical. Yet Lynn’s incandescent personality and singular vocals hold it all together — she convincingly smolders with White on “Portland Oregon,” despite being 44 years his senior, as she movingly pays tribute to her roots and the love of her parents on the album’s title track.
Apart from duetting with Lynn on “Portland Oregon,” White stays out of the way, performing on multiple instruments (he’s credited with electric and acoustic guitar, organ, piano, percussion and backing vocals) and assembling an ace band: drummer Patrick Keeler, pedal steel player David Feeny, bassist “Little” Jack Lawrence, guitarist Dan John Miller and fiddler Dirk Powell. Van Lear Rose’s impact was sizable — the moody video for “Portland Oregon” lodged itself in heavy rotation on MTV, and the single, although it did not chart, won a Grammy in 2005 for best country collaboration with vocals. (It also won for best country album; these would be Lynn’s final competitive Grammy wins.)
Critics likewise praised the record: “It almost feels strange to make a fuss about Van Lear Rose, since the music soars because of its modesty and gentle touch,” Rob Sheffield wrote in a contemporary review for Rolling Stone. “Lynn and White weren’t straining to make history, just a damn good Loretta Lynn album. But it sure sounds classic anyway.”
Pitchfork concurred. “Van Lear Rose is remarkably bold, celebratory and honest,” Stephen M. Deusner wrote in 2004. “It's a homecoming for a small-town musician gifted with poise, humor and compassion, but at its very heart, it's happy to be just a kick-ass country record.”
A Rare Rose
The album ultimately hit No. 2 on Billboard’s Top Country Albums chart and No. 24 on the Billboard Top 200. Her career revived, the irrepressible Lynn would continue to tour and record well into her 70s, although she would not again scale these heights. In 2021, Lynn released her 46th and final studio album, Still Woman Enough, which was produced by her daughter, Patsy Lynn Russell, and Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash’s son, John Carter Cash.Nineteen months later, Lynn was gone, dead at the age of 90. The outpouring of tributes and reverent remembrances at her passing was indicative of her legendary status. Kacey Musgraves paid indelible homage to the Coal Miner’s Daughter during the 2023 Grammys ceremony, and the grand reassessment of her work, as happens online nowadays when the greats go on up ahead, began.
But for whatever bizarre reason, this late-career masterpiece isn’t readily available for an audience who was either too young or not alive when it was released — the album was pulled from streaming and download services three years ago with no explanation, and good luck finding a vinyl copy of Van Lear Rose; it’s been out of print for a while. (CDs are available, but again, not without some leg work.)
It feels like an altogether fitting — and infuriating — irony that one of Lynn’s most beloved albums, one that pulled her back into the spotlight from the margins of fame, is AWOL, especially as it marks a significant anniversary. Many of the decisions made in the music business defy logic and common sense, and the mystifying unavailability of this record is merely the latest example. There’s hiding in plain sight, and then there’s just being buried.
Van Lear Rose is a masterwork bridging generations — respect being afforded a legend who is positioned anew for unfamiliar ears to appreciate who she is and what she did for music. Loretta Lynn’s legacy deserves better, and so does her work with Jack White.
Country music has always been a genre capable of stretching far beyond the strict definitions of its boundaries, and at its best — and most enduring — the willingness to ignore those expectations is exactly the kind of behavior that breeds legends. Loretta Lynn understood this better than most, and you hear her at her best on Van Lear Rose.
