Roberts' story is just like fairy tale

The rising country star has a full-bodied voice with a wide range of emotions.
By ERIC R. DANTON
HARTFORD COURANT
It might as well be a fairy tale.
Julie Roberts, office girl with golden voice, answers phones for Nashville label chief by day and sings with a band in bars by night.
One day her boss hears demos she has worked on in secret and is stunned to learn that the voice that has captivated him belongs to his assistant down the hall.
She gets a record deal, of course, and a publicity blowout that includes a seven-page photo spread in Maxim, a feature story in Glamour and a behind-the-scenes account of her improbable rise that aired on Country Music Television.
Not bad for someone who at this time last year was still taking lunch orders.
"It really is a blessing," Roberts says from her home in Nashville during a break from promoting her self-titled debut. "I moved to Nashville to sing. I didn't know how I was going to get to sing. I just gave it to God."
The album, on Mercury, is a homey collection of first-rate country tunes. But what makes "Julie Roberts" special is Julie Roberts. It's her full-bodied voice, which she can twist into an earthy growl or use to pour on emotion until you're blinking back tears.
That's what caught the notice of Brent Rowan, a veteran session guitarist and producer who has worked with Joe Nichols, Tim McGraw, Toby Keith and Neil Diamond.
After hearing a recording of Roberts and her band, Rowan offered to work with the singer, and the two began cutting songs whenever both could find time. He says her potential is unlimited.
"For me, music is down to two things: I either believe it, or I don't, and with her, I just believed it," Rowan says. "Her voice seemed to come from a really deep well of pain in her being, just that soulfulness. The character was totally unique from anybody that I was familiar with at all in the country-radio field."
Demos did it
Rowan eventually played a handful of Roberts' demos at the end of a routine meeting with her boss, Luke Lewis, the president of MCA and Mercury operations in Nashville. Lewis demanded to know the singer's name, but Rowan refused until after the last tune ended. Then he said, "It's Julie."
"My first reaction was disbelief," Lewis said. "Then I felt foolish for not knowing how talented she was when we had worked so closely."
Lewis didn't know because Roberts was careful to keep it from him.
The 25-year-old singer moved from South Carolina to Nashville five years ago to finish college at Belmont University. She was enrolled in the college's entertainment and music business program, which secured her an internship with MCA/Mercury. After two years as an intern, the company hired her as a receptionist, never knowing of her aspirations to sing.
"I never talked about it at work because I was scared," Roberts said. "At Belmont, I remember being told, 'If you're a singer, don't talk about it, and don't force it on somebody if you're going to go work at a record label.' So I never talked about it; it was my night life. It was my other life, really."
TV appearances
Now it's her life full time, and Roberts seems undaunted even by the risk of overexposure from the publicity surrounding her debut.
"I'm not going to complain one bit. I'm not going to say, 'No, don't do Maxim,' because I'm afraid of too much hype," she says.
"In the end, it's looking at what can help further your career. I don't have a backup plan, and if someone gives me the opportunity to be on 'Good Morning America' or 'Jay Leno,' you can't turn that down." (She appears Tuesday on the former, June 10 on the latter.)
Roberts' goal now is to turn the early buzz, and her very apparent talent, into a lasting career.
"There's nothing else I want to do," she says. "Don't give me an option, because I wouldn't take it."