By Joshua Knopp/entertainment editor
White Lines and Stars, Rosehill’s debut album, has absolutely nothing unique about it.
Blake Myers and Mitch McBain grew up in Texas, naming themselves Rosehill after the exit off Interstate 20 they took to get home. They officially formed a band eight years ago, but college prevented them from really getting under way. Upon graduation, the duo went to Nashville to get a start. After a disastrous first performance, their second performance secured their first album’s production by Radney Foster.
That was a year ago. The product they’ve put out in that time span, White Lines and Stars, reads like the love-song compilation album record labels will put out in an attempt to milk all they can out of an old band that’s broken up or played through their contract — 11 songs spanning around 40 minutes, all of them love songs, most of them “you” songs.
Did it ever cross their minds that re-wording the same song 11 times, a love song especially, does not an album make? Ask anyone on campus in a creative writing class — love is the easiest thing to write about, especially in a form addressed directly to the beloved. Exactly how much effort was put in to this album? And after eight years of official bandhood and an even longer time playing together, could they really not come up with anything more creative to write about?
The lack of originality, versatility and musical talent Rosehill puts on display in White Lines and Stars is staggering and demoralizing. If they don’t make a quick about-face in their songwriting approach, they’re probably going to follow the career path of the Southern boy-band that they sound like.
