Jessica Andrews is – what, 18? A bit too young to have her soul sold to the The Search for the Next Shania Twain Commercial Exploitation Brigade, isn’t it? Who I Am can be forgiven were it not so bland and dull. It is, in fact, devoid of any personality whatsoever. The poor lass is reduced to being a mechanical voice warbling over generic tunes that sound as if they come right out the Faith Hill reject bin. (Incidentally, the guys behind Faith Hill’s state of undress – of her music, that is – are also behind this sad affair. Boo hoo.)
A few guitar twangs do not good country music make. Hence, tracks like Who I Am and I Don’t Like Anyone are nothing more than silly, fluffy, nondescript tunes that are free from hooks. I can’t remember any particular song here at all. Except maybe the bloody, brutal massacre of Maria McKee’s evocative Show Me Heaven, done by this lass here in a merry, shallow, and blasphemous candy-pop style.
Who I Am is beyond generic in its mediocrity. Jessica Andrews can sing, but I am too bored to care about what she is singing.