by Rodney Crowell

The first six songs of this album are as hook-laden and catchy as anything by today's teen queens, but that's where the comparison ends, because Rodney Crowell's lyrics are unusual and his voice has a frequently noticeable twang that, unlike many of today's country stars, is unaffected and natural. Since country has increasingly become pop, you would think that this album would have been enthusiastically embraced by country radio, but this is the third of a series of Crowell albums in which he delves into subjects and areas that reflect his personal beliefs, so while the music may be in tune with Big & Rich, the lyrics are as far from Toby Keith as you can get.

I first discovered Crowell with his breakup (from Rosanne Cash) album, Life is Messy, and enjoyed it because it used the tropes of country music (steel guitar, a singer with a drawl, distinct lyrics that seem as if they are spoken directly to you) but didn't pander. Like Lyle Lovett and Dwight Yoakam, Crowell was unusual and the very fact that he didn't fit within mainstream country made his songs much more interesting to me. That album marked his first departure from Nashville, where he had made a name for himself as a songwriter and producer. I have no idea if this was an intentional break, or if it just grew organically from life events, but no matter, it was the stuff of good albums. I picked up his greatest hits collection, which was okay, but much too like the others songs of its era, and not as unusual as Life is Messy.

I had forgotten about Crowell until recently when I heard a new song of his on a local indepenent radio station and realized that he was back, and back with the kind of songs that I was looking for. Appropriately enough, the song was "The Outsider," from the album of the same name. The music on this song has a soul feel, slightly funky, with a horn section in the middle. Crowell's lyrics are clever, a repetition of what you can or can't be, culminating in the chorus that celebrates those who would hang out on the fringes. What better song to encapsulate what I had found interesting about Crowell originally? And yet the song also is a paeon to those who speak out with minority opinions, mirroring the dissent of those against the current goverment administration and media conglomerates. From that song alone, I knew I needed this album.

The first song, "Say You Love Me," is probably the most country-pop of the album, a bouncy ditty that is infectious, with a multi-voiced chorus yelling "Say" that sounds like everyone is having lots of fun. The lyrics aren't sublime, but they don't need to be, because this is a love song that is an anti-ballad: rather than crooning up at her balcony, Crowell is dancing up to his partner and inviting her to join him. Track 2 is the most unusual song of the album, "The Obscenity Prayer," a prayer from the standpoint of the most vain, self-absorbed American imaginable (i.e., a Young Republican). The chorus is a call and response of "give it to me" followed by "give it, give it, give it, give it." The best line is "the Dixie Chicks can kiss my ass/but I still need that backstage pass," capturing perfectly the inconsistency of those who were offended by the Dixie Chicks criticism of the government at the same time that the Dixie Chicks had the number one album in the land.

Other songs continue this mixture of political commentary and bright, breezy melodies. "Dancin' Circles Round the Sun (Epictetus Speaks)," is another fast moving song whose lyrics are positive encouragment to keep on keepin' on by explaining that we're all circlin' the sun together. The first time I heard "Beautiful Despair" I wasn't sure I cared for, but on repeated listens it has gotten its hooks into me. It's in a minor key and isn't nearly as fast as the previous six songs, signaling a shift in the albums mood, and has a break in the middle where Crowell's voice is joined by a female voice in an a cappella repetition of the title. "Don't Get Me Started" returns to the political theme of the album, but is solidly from the personal viewpoint of Crowell, wherein he alternates between itemizing the problems that he sees and warns that this listing is nothing--you really don't want him to get going with his full opinion of what's going on. I probably dislike "Ignorance is the Enemy" the most--unlike the other songs, its political opinions are done in a series of guest-voice spoken word lectures and comes across as more pedantic than personal, even for someone like myself who agrees with the sentiments. The sung sections are beautiful, though, in their gospel-like harmony.

"Glasgow Girl" is unusual in its celebration of Scotland--in fact, I'd love if this started a trend of country music about countries outside the U.S. It's a simple story song of a Texan who is searching for the girl that he met once and wants to find again, but the music is sweet and the affection seems genuine. "Things That Go Bump in the Day" channels John Hiatt in both its dirty electric guitar over smooth rhythm section and lyrics that work off a central play on words. The only cover song, and true duet (with Emmylou Harris), on the album is "Shelter From the Storm," which I like much more than Bob Dylan's original, if only because Crowell and Harris have voices that aren't nearly as nasal or annoying. In fact, without the distraction of Dylan's delivery, I was finally able to hear and understand the lyrics and enjoy them. The final song is "We Can't Turn Back," which is somewhat like "The Outsider" in its lyrical structure, but instead of focusing on those on the outside, it encourages those within to hold to their principles and not let actions modify what they believe or stand for. It's a nice way to end an album that is alternatively strident and sweet, a melange of wit and wisdom that is worthwhile on the basis of the fact that Crowell undercuts his preachiness by constantly reminding you that this is just him talking. That personal touch gives each song, and the album, a center to which the opinions can be heard, and an alternative to the shouting heads of TV news talk who never qualify their statements. Perhaps if Bill O'Reilly could hold a tune, he'd sound more reasonable, but somehow I doubt it.