Clint Black: Killin' Time (MCA) ***½
Holly Gleason, Rolling Stone, 24 August 1989
IN TODAY'S brave new Nashville, artists fall into neat categories: the docile crooners, like Randy Travis and George Strait, who sing pretty and pretty much toe the line; and the hell raisers, like Steve Earle and John Anderson. But, lucky for us, twenty-seven-year-old Clint Black doesn't fall into one of the neat categories. Neither choirboy nor hellion, he writes and sings about battered hearts, broken dreams and tortured emotions with an unflinching directness.
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