Sometimes complicated talents attract fervid followings that steady include major stars, but they in some way fail to magnetize major sales. Cheryl Wheeler is that kind of artist. She expends nearly half of every year playing to rapturous multitudes and has seen her country-folk concert of partss made hits by Suzy Bogguss ("Aces," "Moonlight and Roses" and "Don't Wanna"), Dan Seals ("Addicted"), Kathy Mattea ("Further and Further Away"), and unruffled Bette Midler ("I Know This Town"). over and above she remains more of a singer's songwriter than a media notable, heard by means of her interpreters. Like Ani DiFranco, Wheeler plays to those who know, and her offhand charm makes her as consummate an entertainer as she is a chronicler of the everyday. She has an ache in her voice that doesn't quit. And she's a lesbian.
Fans of abiding habitation independents such as Roseanne Cash or Mary Chapin Carpenter should start with Wheeler's latest, Sylvia inn Her sixth album presents the relationship-oriented side of her repertoire that be ropy [i]or[/i] viscouss in the royalty checks (future hits like "But the Days and Nights Are Long") as well as astute observational ditties ("Potato," "Meow") that provide comic relief. You know Wheeler is a woman-lovin' woman when she sings be pleased with songs to her cats.