Mary Gauthier

Mary Gauthier Where: McCabe's Guitar Shop, 3101 Pico Blvd, Santa Monica. When: 8 p.m. Saturday; 7 p.m. Sunday Price: $22.50 Info: (310) 828-4497, http://www.mccabes.com

Every day, musicians are exploring new ways to understand -- and profit from -- a business that doesn't easily grant either any more, and on Sunday, Canadian singer-songwriter-raconteur Fred Eaglesmith rolled into Santa Monica to wrap up an intriguing grass-roots tour that has taken him and a ragtag band of fellow players and fans from Chicago to L.A. along Route 66. Possibly best known outside his cult following as the composer of the title track...

One of the most electrifying moments at this year's Stagecoach country music festival had nothing to do with the high-wattage, big-budget stage productions that accompanied performances by the event's main attractions, Toby Keith, Keith Urban, Brooks & Dunn and Sugarland. In fact, it came as the result of a technological breakdown. Inside a tent with the noontime sun blazing above, Louisiana singer and songwriter Mary Gauthier was in the middle of a song from her new album, "The Foundling," when a loud pop was heard over the PA, and then the sound system died.

Mary Gauthier Where: McCabe's Guitar Shop, 3101 Pico Blvd, Santa Monica. When: 8 p.m. Saturday; 7 p.m. Sunday Price: $22.50 Info: (310) 828-4497, http://www.mccabes.com

For a long time, Mary Gauthier had a lot of trouble, and very little mystery. Through four albums, she laid every piece of her life on the table in forlorn, unvarnished, autobiographical song, like a no-luck gambler who's come to hate her own money at the end of the night. There was the mother she never knew; the jocks and pompom girls who made her an outcast as a kid; the time she ran away from home and found herself a new family of drag queens and pot dealers who read Kerouac.

The songwriters attending Mary Gauthier's class pulled up a folding chair or found a patch of lawn, to hear her inveigh against the forces that block writers' best effort. "Let's talk about obstacles, the crap we tell ourselves. 'I'm not worthy. I'm fat, I'm gay, I'm old. My mama said I couldn't sing. My fourth-grade teacher said I couldn't write,' " Gauthier said. "Help me out here." A student jumped in: "Someone's already said it better than I could." "You're a privileged white chick.

Mary GAUTHIER never thought she'd sign with a major label. As a songwriter who considers herself a folk singer, Gauthier knew that acoustic performers are rarely embraced by the top tiers of the record business these days, especially those who sing in a molasses-slow Southern drawl. That she's a lesbian in her 40s didn't exactly increase her marketability in a business based on youth and sex appeal.

I met Mary Gauthier on a flight from L.A. to Nashville last year. I was delighted to see the lengthy article on her work ["Enough About Me," Feb. 24]. Her lyrics are powerful. Mary sent me her CD after we talked on the plane about politics and life. I've played "Mercy" for everyone who would listen. Even my 21-year-old who has never listened to country and western music grabbed the CD and kept it in her car for months, enjoying the powerful lyrics and melancholy of Mary's music. Sharon Jimenez Los Angeles

There's a cinema verite quality to the stark portraits Mary Gauthier creates in her haunting songs of lives coming together or apart. The Louisiana-born singer-songwriter comes down squarely in the John Prine tradition, with Travis-picked guitar backing for these plain-sung and sometimes spoken narratives. Her latest album, "Between Daylight and Dark," is even more haunting than her 2005 breakthrough, "Mercy Now," thanks in part to darkly atmospheric production by the ever-busy Joe Henry.

Mary Gauthier provides a musical variation of the adage about survival: What doesn't kill you makes great song fodder. The New Orleans-born, Baton Rouge-reared singer-songwriter draws on a lifetime of emotional and physical damage for the extraordinary songs on her major-label debut album, "Mercy Now," songs that formed the heart of her performance Friday at McCabe's in Santa Monica. Strong as her album is, it still isn't full preparation for the multidimensional power of her live show.

One of the most electrifying moments at this year's Stagecoach country music festival had nothing to do with the high-wattage, big-budget stage productions that accompanied performances by the event's main attractions, Toby Keith, Keith Urban, Brooks & Dunn and Sugarland. In fact, it came as the result of a technological breakdown. Inside a tent with the noontime sun blazing above, Louisiana singer and songwriter Mary Gauthier was in the middle of a song from her new album, "The Foundling," when a loud pop was heard over the PA, and then the sound system died.

The songwriters attending Mary Gauthier's class pulled up a folding chair or found a patch of lawn, to hear her inveigh against the forces that block writers' best effort. "Let's talk about obstacles, the crap we tell ourselves. 'I'm not worthy. I'm fat, I'm gay, I'm old. My mama said I couldn't sing. My fourth-grade teacher said I couldn't write,' " Gauthier said. "Help me out here." A student jumped in: "Someone's already said it better than I could." "You're a privileged white chick.

I met Mary Gauthier on a flight from L.A. to Nashville last year. I was delighted to see the lengthy article on her work ["Enough About Me," Feb. 24]. Her lyrics are powerful. Mary sent me her CD after we talked on the plane about politics and life. I've played "Mercy" for everyone who would listen. Even my 21-year-old who has never listened to country and western music grabbed the CD and kept it in her car for months, enjoying the powerful lyrics and melancholy of Mary's music. Sharon Jimenez Los Angeles

For a long time, Mary Gauthier had a lot of trouble, and very little mystery. Through four albums, she laid every piece of her life on the table in forlorn, unvarnished, autobiographical song, like a no-luck gambler who's come to hate her own money at the end of the night. There was the mother she never knew; the jocks and pompom girls who made her an outcast as a kid; the time she ran away from home and found herself a new family of drag queens and pot dealers who read Kerouac.

There's a cinema verite quality to the stark portraits Mary Gauthier creates in her haunting songs of lives coming together or apart. The Louisiana-born singer-songwriter comes down squarely in the John Prine tradition, with Travis-picked guitar backing for these plain-sung and sometimes spoken narratives. Her latest album, "Between Daylight and Dark," is even more haunting than her 2005 breakthrough, "Mercy Now," thanks in part to darkly atmospheric production by the ever-busy Joe Henry.

KANYE WEST, the rapper-producer who topped last year's Freshman Class, makes his presence known again by contributing to the success of two members of this year's class: R&B singer John Legend and "American Idol" winner Fantasia. Other entries in the annual salute to the year's most noteworthy pop arrivals include the radical cabaret sensibilities of Antony and the Johnsons and the stark commentaries of a 42-year-old former restaurateur.

Every day, musicians are exploring new ways to understand -- and profit from -- a business that doesn't easily grant either any more, and on Sunday, Canadian singer-songwriter-raconteur Fred Eaglesmith rolled into Santa Monica to wrap up an intriguing grass-roots tour that has taken him and a ragtag band of fellow players and fans from Chicago to L.A. along Route 66. Possibly best known outside his cult following as the composer of the title track...

KANYE WEST, the rapper-producer who topped last year's Freshman Class, makes his presence known again by contributing to the success of two members of this year's class: R&B singer John Legend and "American Idol" winner Fantasia. Other entries in the annual salute to the year's most noteworthy pop arrivals include the radical cabaret sensibilities of Antony and the Johnsons and the stark commentaries of a 42-year-old former restaurateur.

Mary Gauthier provides a musical variation of the adage about survival: What doesn't kill you makes great song fodder. The New Orleans-born, Baton Rouge-reared singer-songwriter draws on a lifetime of emotional and physical damage for the extraordinary songs on her major-label debut album, "Mercy Now," songs that formed the heart of her performance Friday at McCabe's in Santa Monica. Strong as her album is, it still isn't full preparation for the multidimensional power of her live show.

Mary GAUTHIER never thought she'd sign with a major label. As a songwriter who considers herself a folk singer, Gauthier knew that acoustic performers are rarely embraced by the top tiers of the record business these days, especially those who sing in a molasses-slow Southern drawl. That she's a lesbian in her 40s didn't exactly increase her marketability in a business based on youth and sex appeal.