On a musical level, "Falling Down" makes beautiful use of falling leaves as a metaphor for the general misery that all youth seem to possess, so I'm torn between compliment and criticism. Darby has a great voice, a melodic flair and a love for raw country rock, but she takes her philosophy ("If it feels good, do it, don't worry") too much to heart. Rather than being a talented artist, she undercuts greatness with stock images of seasons and odorous melodrama. Her lyrical problems ("Summer's coming / Better get yourself a flower before it's too late") exist because she tries too hard to make poetry from her life (or from life in general). She talks about situations "where everyone listening was deaf", and about so many leaves -- yellow leaves, dying leaves, the nostril-tickling variety, leaves on hills, in water, and all over the chicken's plates -- that it's hard to take her laments ("I don't feel so very pretty") as anything but posturing. I frankly put more trust in Christina Aguiliera's lyrics -- at least her whines seem directed at her critics.

Darby probably needs some sort of strong-willed confidante who'd tell her not to revisit John Lennon's "Mother", even if she thinks the same, because some things just shouldn't be done anymore. The main reason she shouldn't echo the emotional "blasts from the past" is that her possibly inspired efforts go for naught; the end of Darby's "Mother" is a "confessional" moment that comes across as entirely imitative and insincere -- just because it also sounds like intentional homage or theft.

Of course, to anyone who's heard Darby before, this criticism will sound far too harsh, as no Darby song is an unpleasant experience. She sounds great, and her taste in musical accompaniment is all early Stones country and plaintive Annie Gallup. Fantasia Ball, which was recorded at home, is likely the work of an artist whose sole desire was to capture that little special something that her own unique life can provide to listeners. Intentions matter less than results, though; this album of depressing songs sounds as if it was built up from cardboard cutouts of what Darby perceived her music should be like. I don't believe that her heart is in the lyrics, and a singer-songwriter needs that bit of faith or else has failed.