E-Mail This Article to a Friend Redneck and white, with a little blooze Polite rebel yells from Gretchen Wilson and Montgomery Gentry BY SEAN RICHARDSON

On July 14, CBS aired an excellent prime-time television special that covered all the highlights of last month’s CMA Music Festival in Nashville. During the opening number, Brooks & Dunn’s raucous "You Can’t Take the Honky Tonk Out of the Girl," viewers got a pleasant surprise when country’s brightest new star, Gretchen Wilson, appeared to help sing the last chorus. She made a big entrance, riding in on an ATV just like the one in the video for her breakthrough single, "Redneck Woman." At the end of "Honky Tonk," Brooks & Dunn left the stage to let Wilson sing her hit. It was a well-staged torch-passing ceremony.

Written by Wilson and John Rich, of hot country newcomers Big & Rich, "Redneck Woman" is a brassy tomboy manifesto. "Well, I ain’t never been the Barbie Doll type/No, I can’t swig that sweet champagne/I’d rather drink beer all night," Wilson sings, her full-bodied twang reinforcing the case. She rattles off a list of kindred spirits, three of whom (Tanya Tucker, Kid Rock, and Hank Williams Jr.) have playful cameos in the video. The track’s honky-tonk swing carries few hints of gloss or even modernity; no wonder fans have been praising Wilson for taking a stand against Shania Twain and the like.

"Redneck Woman" has already topped the country singles chart and gone all the way to #22 on the pop tally. Wilson’s first CD, Here for the Party (Epic), is also a mainstream sensation, making itself at home in the Billboard Top 10 and going platinum since its May release. She’s poised to make some noise at the CMA awards in November, and a Grammy nomination for Best New Artist could also be on the way. Right now, she’s out on her first major tour, which hits Foxborough and Portland this weekend.

Wilson may only be one single into her career, but the story of her rise to fame has become an instant country classic. The 31-year-old singer grew up on the outskirts of St. Louis, in the tiny truck-stop town of Pocahontas, Illinois. By the age of 15, she was working full-time at a bar and singing for tips on the side. She spent most of her 20s sweating it out in Nashville, where she eventually met Rich, who had tasted success as an early member of Lonestar. By the time she signed with Epic, she was making a living as a demo singer.

From here on out, the obvious challenge for Wilson is transcending the novelty appeal of "Redneck Woman," which risks becoming to her what "Material Girl" was to Reagan-era Madonna. The Party CD artwork is all wood paneling and shag carpet, with a portrait of her leaning against the side of a trailer for good measure. And the tongue-in-cheek charm of "Redneck Woman" — as well as the current Big & Rich hit "Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)" — might not be the sturdiest foundation to build a career on.

Wilson has her moments of introspection on Party, but most of the album is serious about having a good time. "I’m here for the beer and the ball-busting band/Gonna get a little crazy just because I can," she sings on the opening title track, which is also the second single. The tune’s Lynyrd Skynyrd–style guitars are a sign of good things to come: though she claims her biggest influence is Patsy Cline, Wilson likes to rock as much as any other contemporary country outlaw. And along with emitting bravado, she can be as sexy as a Shania.

Party is frontloaded with Wilson’s own compositions, and that’s a smart move. "Well, you’re a real hot cookie with your new hairdo," she sings on the slow-burning "Homewrecker," echoing the tough-girl strut of Pat Benatar’s "Hit Me with Your Best Shot." By the end of the song, she’s ready to take it outside, but the chorus softens the impact of her punches with its sunny vocal harmonies and steel-guitar glimmer. The disc’s first ballad, "When I Think About Cheatin’," is a bittersweet vignette that can’t help sounding generic despite its genuine tenderness.

When Wilson and Rich surrender the reins to other songwriters, the album begins to fall victim to the typical formulaic shortcomings of a Music Row debut. Although Wilson’s formidable voice helps carry even the weakest material, the melancholy "What Happened" is the only ballad to achieve genuine pathos. The gospel-powered funk blowout "Chariot" doesn’t amount to much in terms of lyrics, but at least it gives Wilson an opportunity to stretch out as a vocalist. She does some serious wailing over the verse’s blues cadences, and the hick-hop bridge comes complete with, believe it or not, real turntable scratching to go with its Biblical rhymes.