By Brian Turk
By Drew AIles
By Taylor Boylston
By Bree Davies
By Emerald O'Brien
By Gina Tron
By Jon Solomon
"If we have gone so far as to elect 'that man' as president," she says, refusing to even speak George W. Bush's name, "we deserve whatever the hell we get. And I think we're going to regret it."
Such sentiments won't win her any fans at Bubbaya's new address, but they might endear her even more to her own audience -- an increasingly broad group that's been drawn by her wit, humor and talent. Over the past few years, Wheeler has become one of the nation's better singer-songwriters by crafting a catalogue of songs as impassioned and to-the-point as her commentaries. As a singer, Wheeler possesses a voice of lead-crystal clarity, a hard-but-fragile timbre that sparkles -- and cuts -- like shattered glass. It's a fitting instrument for her poignant, detail-rich tunes -- smart songs that deliver honest views on adult issues. Pair those assets with a stage banter as sharp as a new Ginsu knife and a funny bone as big as her heart, and Wheeler makes for a compelling solo act.
While Wheeler's name might not be familiar to much of America, many of her songs are. A veteran of the Washington, D.C., folk scene of the late '70s, she released her first recording, Newport Songs, in 1983, with the help of fellow songwriter Jonathan Edwards. In 1986 she released Cheryl Wheeler, and two songs from that collection, "Aces" and "Addicted," became hits for Suzy Bogus and Dan Seals, respectively. The Seals cut reached number one on the country charts in 1987. In 1990 she released Circles & Arrows on Capitol Records, but she was dropped shortly after the disc's release, following the departure of the label allies who had initially signed her. In 1993 Wheeler released Driving Home (on Philo Records, a Rounder imprint); Mrs. Pinocchi's Guitar followed in 1995. Both recordings offer ample evidence of Wheeler's impressive skill in the form of wistful love songs, sweet character sketches and bittersweet snapshots of life and culture gone awry in America. Along the way, more artists recognized her merits, and her songs appeared on discs from Bette Midler and Maura O'Connell. In 1999, Wheeler released her third collection of Philo material, Sylvia Hotel. The disc features the song "If It Were Up to Me," which became a popular cut in the United States -- and Colorado in particular -- for its subject: school shootings.
Initially written in response to the schoolyard killings in Jonesboro, Arkansas, "If It Were Up to Me" became an anthem of sorts in the aftermath of the Columbine High School shootings nearly two years ago. Wheeler performed the tune in Denver at a gun-control rally during the National Rifle Association's annual meeting shortly after the tragedy, and Rounder donated $5 to the Center to Prevent Handgun Violence each time the tune was played on triple-A radio. The song put Wheeler's name on the minds of a much larger audience: both gun-control proponents and a small number of anti-gun-control people who saw the song as a call to ban guns entirely.
The song's lyrics consist of a list of speculations on the causes of society's ills, "Maybe it's the drugs/Maybe it's the parents...Maybe it's the music/Maybe it's the crack," that ended with a line NRA members found threatening: "If it were up to me/I'd take away all the guns." To those who discovered Wheeler through that song, it might have seemed that she was primarily concerned with protest music and addressing social issues with her art. But that's hardly the case. "My statement song is 'If It Were Up to Me,'" Wheeler says, "and I don't know if people want to hear it or not. But I think most of the folk-music audience is on the same page with me on it. We don't think children should be armed. Children should not have guns, and whatever it takes -- whatever it takes -- to make sure our children aren't shooting each other, that has to be done." Parts of the song later appeared in a medley by Garth Brooks (on his In the Life of Chris Gaines fake-greatest-hits CD) in which he combined the Youngbloods' "Let's Get Together" with lines from Wheeler's tune. He conveniently dropped the song's final line in his version, angering Wheeler fans who felt he'd watered down her original message. (A visitor to Wheeler's Web site, cherylwheeler. com, summed up the move nicely: "If it were up to Garth, he'd take away the point.")