Mattea childhood was steeped in the culture of mining and Appalachia but despite having a wide range and "being a sponge about music," she wasn't exposed to much traditional mountain music. "I never thought I had an ear for singing real heavy Appalachian music," she says. "I marvel at the wonder of someone like Hazel Dickens, I just never thought I could do that."

Still, she dreamed quietly about one day recording an album like COAL, cataloging mining songs over the years. The idea began to gel during the Sago Mine Disaster, which killed twelve West Virginia miners in 2006. "I thought, now is the time to do these songs. Sago was the thing that brought it all back to the surface," she says. "I thought, 'I need to do channel all this emotion.' And I knew the time was right."

It was a life-altering decision, one that would forever change the way she thinks about music and singing. "I had to unlearn a lot. These songs are about getting out of the way; it's about being with the song, opening a space and letting the song come through you."

Mattea, known as one of the consummate songcatchers, meticulously chose songs for the album. "I wanted some labor songs, some songs that articulated the lifestyle, the bigger struggle, and I wanted a wide variety musically," Mattea says. She picked songs by such celebrated songwriters as Jean Ritchie, Billy Edd Wheeler, Hazel Dickens, Si Kahn, Utah Williams, Merle Travis, and Darrel Scott.

"With these songs, it's not about how you sound, it's about sheer communication and expression, and a way to give voice to someone else's life experiences. It's being a voice for a whole group of people, a place, a way of life. And that's a sacred use of music.," Mattea says.

Her delivery of the songs approaches the sacred as well. Mattea bares herself on performances like her a capella vocal of "Black Lung," which reveals a singer at the height of her powers (and left studio onlookers in tears). She never oversings, quietly and subtly working her way through the powerful ballad "The Coming of the Roads" so that she delivers an emotional punch before the listener has even realized it. There is the pumping energy of "The L&N Don't Stop Here Anymore," and "Coal Tattoo," the beautiful, understated pain of songs like "Red-Winged Black Bird" and "Lawrence Jones." Her delivery of "Green Rolling Hills" is so full of pride and joy that the listener will wish to be a West Virginian, too, just to feel such beautiful homesickness.

Mattea found a guiding hand in Marty Stuart as her producer. "Marty has a relationship to a commercial career and to this music, just like me; he understands that balance. And he's been playing it since was thirteen; he has a vocabulary in hillbilly music," Mattea says. "He brought things into focus that I couldn't see on my own. He's a dream to work with, he's just brilliant and so generous."

The pickers on this album are a small, impressive lot that were as carefully chosen as the songs and the producer. Mattea is joined by Bill Cooley, who has been playing guitar with her for 20 years. Providing percussion on Mattea's first drum-less album is Byron House on upright bass. ("His slap bass is a big part of the sound.") Stuart Duncan offers mandolin, banjo and fiddle. These three main pickers are joined by Stuart, who plays guitar, mandolin, and mandola. He also sings background vocals, along with Patty Loveless and Tim and Mollie O'Brien. Also making appearances are cellist John Catchings, veteran session man and Mattea bandmate Randy Leago, and legendary steel player Fred Newell.

Singer, songs, producer, and pickers have all come together flawlessly to form a career record for Mattea and a great gift for music lovers.

Mattea says she had to dig really deep, to get to the dark and light places that held the power for her to let these songs come forth. But on the other hand, she sometimes worried that the songs were "almost too effortless to sing." Upon admitting this to Stuart, he didn't miss a beat before telling her that he wasn't surprised. "That's because it's in your blood, pal," he said. Mattea likes this explanation. "I think there's a mystery there. That somewhere in me, in my DNA, there's my great grandmother singing, and my grandma, and my people, singing through me, with me." she says. "Maybe that's why it didn't feel like work."

Seed Newsvine