Arguably the most eclectically prolific artist since Prince, Ryan Adams continues his chameleon revivalism with his most straight forward country music to date. Having evoked the inspiration of bands ranging from T. Rex to the Grateful Dead on previous solo releases, the former Whiskeytown frontman here channels the likes of Faron Young on "My Heart Is Broken," while framing the shot-and-a-beer opener, "A Kiss Before I Go," with honky-tonk piano and pedal steel. "Seems like I'm always movin'," he sings amid the rockabilly kick of "Trains," as the album finds his restless muse ranging from a dreamy duet with Norah Jones on "Dear John" to naked vulnerability reminiscent of John Lennon on "Silver Bullets. " Only Adams would cut a track titled "The End" and sequence it second on the CD, or a song called "Peaceful Valley" and inject it with so much emotion. -Don McLeese.

Prior to their ultimate split, Whiskeytown made a record that was buried for nearly three years by industry snafus. Pneumonia was well worth the wait. The band's final lineup (singer and songwriter Ryan Adams, violinist Caitlin Cary and guitarist Mike Daly) is augmented by special guests such as Tommy Stinson of the Replacements and James Iha of Smashing Pumpkins. Sure, Adams doesn't quite grasp what he's reaching for on the Latin-tinged "Paper Moon" and "Sit & Listen to the Rain" is about as exciting as its title suggests. But "Jacksonville Skyline", a hometown ode that's sweetly nostalgic but hardly naïve, easily ranks among Adams's best ballads. And don't bother trying to elude the hooks of the bouncy kiss-off "Don't Wanna Know Why" or the polished piano pop of "Mirror, Mirror". While it's unfortunate that the reliably unreliable Whiskeytown didn't live to see the release of its most consistent disc, Pneumonia is a harbinger of still better things to come from both Adams and Cary. -Anders Smith-Lindall.

Four studio albums into their hugely successful career, Counting Crows' present the requisite "Best Of" package, Films About Ghosts. Spanning the 10 years since August and Everything After slow-burnt its way into homes across the world, it also features two new songs (as is the standard these days), their recent cover of "Big Yellow Taxi" and a live bonus track. Newie "Friend of the Devil" is a rousing, acoustic addition that distantly echoes "Walking in Memphis", and "She Don't Want Nobody Near" is rockier, balancing out some of the more sedated moments here. Interestingly, there are a mammoth five tracks from August… compared with just two from 2002's Hard Candy ("Holiday in Spain" and "American Girls"-ill advised covers don't count) and a couple from This Desert Life. This is hardly surprising considering the disparity between their first and last albums, although they have not suffered in quite the same way that Hootie and the Blowfish have done. Recovering The Satellites is thankfully better represented and tracks such as "A Long December" and "Angels of the Silences" deserve their status so high up in the tracklisting. Films About Ghosts is an essential starting point for anyone coming to the Crows for the first time, and a fine collection that will no doubt please most of their earliest fans too. -Cortman Virtue.

Lucinda Williams makes this whole music thing seem so simple: Write in plain language about the people and places that crowd your memory; add subtle flavors of a mandolin here, a Dobro there, perhaps an accordion or slide guitar; above all, sing as honestly and naturally as you can. Of course, it took her six years to achieve this simplicity, an amazing achievement considering the number of knobs that were turned. Her exquisite voice moans and groans and slips and slides-she delivers a polished tone in a coarse manner. On the superb "Concrete and Barbed Wire", soft acoustic guitars are punctuated by electric slide, accordion, mandolin, and Steve Earle's harmony. Williams's deeply personal stories are matched with bluesy rumbles, raunchy grooves, and plaintive whispers. The entire Deep South is reduced to a sleepy small town filled with ex-lovers, dive bars, and endless gravel roads. -Marc Greilsamer.

Was it homesickness that compelled long time Los Angeles resident KD Lang to fashion her one woman campaign for Canadian nationalism, or just plain good sense? As an organising tool, all Canadian content has long been a mainstay of the Canadian Broadcasting System but few have selected their material with such a fine hand and a high aesthetic. The ex-patriot singer has taken great pains to create a sophisticated homage to her Canadian roots, elegantly reinterpreting 11 songs penned by some of her more illustrious countrymen (and women) such as Jane Siberry, Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, and Leonard Cohen. The idiosyncratic chanteuse turns Cohen's "Bird on a Wire" into an aching monochromatic lament, exploring new tributaries of pain that didn't exist in the original, while recasting Neil Young's "Helpless" into haunting anthem of memory and comfort, all the while sounding anything but helpless. Hymns of the 49th Parallel is a gorgeous love letter to her brethren, complete with an intelligent and understated orchestration. -Jaan Uhelszki.

Few artists in recent memory have been able to wring more from less than Lucinda Williams. The hauntingly beautiful, wistful and often breathtaking Essence is another case in point of how far raw emotion and honesty can carry an artist. Williams's singing is at its paralyzing best throughout 11 bare originals, an incredibly affecting vocal performance by a woman who was not blessed with exceptional tone, range or pitch. Throughout, her voice is incredibly naked, vulnerable and wrought with feeling. "Blue" and "Broken Butterflies" are gorgeous anti-lullabies whose simple melodies belie their poignant ruminations. The title track is a sultry and susceptible sex-as-drug come-on while "Reason to Cry" has all the hallmarks of a classic country lament. The only departure from the subdued mood is "Get Right With God", a rousing gospel tune that practically begs for salvation through punishment and is the rare acknowledgement of a world beyond Williams's own fears and desires. More meditative than the personal narratives found on Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, Essence is ultimately more powerful. Williams wallows in sorrow and weakness, and the result is moving and disarming. -Marc Greilsamer.

Heavier Things should surprise more than a few critics. John Mayer's big-label debut was a multi-platinum breakthrough success whose sensual anthem "Your Body is a Wonderland" scored him an unlikely Grammy for Best Pop Vocal. That out-of-the-box success-and more than a few critics grousing that Mayer's muse was cloned from Dave Matthews-primed him for the typical sophomore slump. Instead, Mayer delivers an album whose tone and title suggests a gentle, tongue-in-cheek rebuke to his naysayers. Propelled by the subtle ambitions of an expanded pop-jazz framework (largely courtesy of Sheryl Crow/No Doubt producer Jack Joseph Puig), Mayer's breathy vocal tack now suggests a detached, conflicted and significantly less precious incarnation of Michael Franks. But the way he weds fluid pop hooks to lyrical concerns, whose self-obsessions are undercut by telling dollops of self-deprecation, should clearly draw listeners in, from the my-spirit's-too-smart-for-my-body laments of "Clarity", upbeat single "Bigger than My Body" and bluesy plea "Come Back to Bed" to the cautionary, melodically rich "Daughters" and even the anti-materialist agitpop of "Something's Missing". -Jerry McCulley.

With a touch of Robyn Hitchcock in his vocal timbre, a smidgen of Steve Earle in his narratives and instrumental writing and a heap of Gram Parsons in the fullness of his overall sound and structure, Ryan Adams steps well above Whiskeytown with Heartbreaker, his solo debut. By turns raucous, wistful, raspy and simply sweet, Adams makes the most of a top-shelf acoustic band, including Gillian Welch and David Rawlings and even a guest spot from Emmylou Harris on the tenderly yearning "Oh My Sweet Caroline". There is little dependence on the usual alt-country twang and a far more rounded sense of textures here (the multiple vocal tracks on "Amy", for example, sound Beatles-esque), with glockenspiel, organ and more signalling a sonic field of extensive depth. His spare guitar and stretched-thin vocal delivery alternate smartly with a bigger-shouldered guitar and throaty voice, never leaving behind a band conception straight out of Parsons's oeuvre. Adams signals occupancy of the post-alt country vanguard-if there is such a thing. -Andy Bartlett.

It's not encouraging that only one of the four new songs on this 1999 greatest-hits package, arriving after a layoff of more than a year, was co-written by Raul Malo. However, we come not to bury the Mavericks' future but to praise their past. They're the strongest argument that the change in Nashville in the 1990s hasn't all been for the worst. Whether the songs lean toward country or early-60s pop-rock, they invariably have a good feel, good melody, good hooks. They ring simple and from the heart, without guile or pretence. The musicians are invariably smart, stylish and sympathetic. Their chops are undeniable but the ensemble playing makes it all work and the soloists never upstage the songs or Malo's unforgettable voice. Finally, for all the talk about the Mavericks' Latino-country fusion, it's really more pan-Caribbean than strictly Latino. This is the most festive-sounding country music ever. -John Morthland.