With Jerusalem, Steve Earle stops pining for ghosts and gruffly makes his own claim to the agit-folk crown. (Remember how on 1997's El Corazón, he wished for the return of Woody Guthrie to a world sorely lacking voices of righteous dissent?) The controversial "John Walker's Blues" drew attention to Jerusalem and provoked the ire of many who misunderstood it, but it's only one of many topical tunes on a disc that issues a kind of call to arms: over the distorted guitars and garbage-bin drums of "Amerika v. 6. 0" and in the spare and creepy satire "Conspiracy Theory", Earle rallies listeners to resist the corrosion of culture by consumerism, xenophobia and apathy. And as often with Earle's songs, several tracks offer sympathetic portrayals of folks on the margins: a Mexican migrant writes a letter home as organ chirps and guitars blaze through "What's a Simple Man to Do?" and in "The Truth" Earle's fuzzed-out drawl depicts life behind bars. Although nearly every moment of this ambitious album is laden with meaning, there's room enough for simple beauty-like the velvet voice of Emmylou Harris on "I Remember You"-and, more importantly, hope. "I believe there'll come a day," Earle affirms in the closing track, "when the lion and the lamb will lie down in peace together in Jerusalem. " -Anders Smith Lindall.

What's stranger: Willie Nelson singing lilting reggae melodies, or a Jamaican chestnut like "The Harder They Fall" set to an acoustic country arrangement, complete with Dobro? Given Nelson's well-publicised taste for ganja, it's not surprising he's also fond of the island's major musical export. The genre-straddling Countryman, replete with dub effects, skanking beats, ringing steel guitars, and Nelson's signature nylon-string picking, doesn't measure up to his earlier, artful Lost Highway releases. But his voice is still mellow gold, and there are tunes-like his duet with reggae/R&B singer Toots Hibbert on Johnny Cash's "I'm a Worried Man" and his own somber reading of Jimmy Cliff's "Sitting in Limbo"-that tap into the souls of desperate men to extol the power of faith over adversity. -Ted Drozdowski.

Wilco's follow-up to A. M. impresses first with its size: 19 tunes fill the double-album package, and the packaging unfolds like a larger-than-life 1970s-era gatefold album cover. But the love affair with the artwork is short-lived, fading as the music takes center stage, making plain the band's overwhelming stretch into innumerable styles. Jeff Tweedy's love of pop and the mechanics of making pop albums is clear almost immediately, as he and his cohort utilize the studio to create and manipulate undertows and snaky recorded elements throughout many of their tunes (a keyboard touch, a guitar's flair, a cymbal's unexpected crash). There are the plainspoken acoustic numbers, recalling Tweedy's tenure in Uncle Tupelo, and there are also unwinding swoops of tinted, guitar-heavy rock-one of which collapses into chromatic jabs at a piano only to resolve in silence on "Sunken Treasure. " Oodles of influences fill Wilco's collective mind, and they're perfectly content to pile the trace elements atop each other and make scrambled pop perfection. -Andrew Bartlett.

Pulling out all the Nashville stops, k. d. lang's 1988 album is a meticulously crafted work, her bid for mainstream country acceptance and a homage to her idol Patsy Cline. Surrounded by the brilliance of Owen Bradley's string-laced production and a host of legendary pickers (Buddy Emmons and Pete Wade) and singers (Kitty Wells, Brenda Lee, Loretta Lynn), lang's voice soars and moans like a dove. After the lush Chris Isaak-penned opener "Western Stars", lang follows with more-familiar country writers, from Roger Miller ("Lock, Stock and Teardrops") to Harlan Howard ("I'm Down to My Last Cigarette"). Both a commercial (the album went gold) and artistic success, Shadowland ranks as one of the best country records of the 1980s. -Roy Francis Kasten.

Though they recorded their third album in an industrial area in Vancouver (as opposed to the sunny California they've been obsessed with since they started out), The Thrills-fans will be pleased to know-have not lost their inherently sunny dispositions. Produced by Tony Hoffer (who helmed their debut), this latest outing sees the band engage with that most American of themes - yep, the teenager. The quartet's trademark vocal harmonies, recognisable instrumentation and light, catchy melodies are rolled out in fine style on opening track "The Midnight Choir," continuing apace on tunes like the jaunty "This Year", the solid "Nothing Changes 'Round Here" and the jangling "Restaurant". Infused with the air of nostalgia that the title suggests, there's also some welcome edginess. The band keep to their formula of short, 3 1/2 minute songs too-a good idea given the grating potential of Conor Deasy's croaky vocals, which can sometimes stretch the listener to breaking point. Teenager is occasionally bogged down by a tendency to slip into samey territory, but the slow-burn allure of songs like the title track and "Should Have Know Better" make this something of a return to form for Dublin's most American band. -Paul Sullivan.

After their wild experimental streak of the past decade, Wilco's sixth studio album might feel like a bit of a comedown. Sky Blue Sky is mellow, moody, and uncharacteristically monotone, opening with a pleasant jangle and Jeff Tweedy singing a simple song: "Maybe the sun will shine today, the clouds will blow away. " He doesn't even follow it up with a barbed punchline. Could it be that the restless Chicago band has settled back into its gentle Americana roots-or does this sudden mid-career reappraisal represent Wilco's gutsiest move yet? Mostly written in the studio by the full band, it's certainly the group's most cohesive album in ages, presenting a dense song cycle padded with intricate guitar work, brushed rhythms, and '70s soft-rock accents. In places it sounds like Wings ("Hate It Here"), in others Harry Nilsson ("Walken"), and in the middle it goes a bit Grateful Dead ("Shake It Off"). At the same time, there's a distinct sense of hearing a band finally at ease in its own skin. Sky Blue Sky represents the sound of Wilco finally pulling through its petulant adolescence. -Aidin Vaziri.

The much-rated English songwriter's rustic-flavoured powerpop gem made it into several publication's "Best Of 99" lists, and rightly so. Recorded by his full-time band with Eric Heywood and Dave Boquist from alt. country masters Son Volt sitting in, it's quite probably the best record of its genre from this side of the pond. As song titles like "By The Time My Head Gets To Phoenix" and "Jurassic Parking Lot" suggest, Bruntnell has an eye for extraordinary incidents but manages to weld these outlandish stories onto everyday emotions of love, grief and longing. Married to the lyrical iridescence are sound musicianship and a library of hooks that make upbeat songs like "Jurassic" and "You Won't Find Me" inextinguishable from the memory, while elsewhere he shows a canny knack of capturing a wistful slowness and even bluegrass sensibilities. -Tim Perry.

On her remarkable debut, Revival, Gillian Welch sang of men and women who were intimately tied to others, even as they mourned dead children or lost homes. Hell Among the Yearlings finds Welch in even darker territory. In this world, loss can't be assuaged by human connection because there is none: morphine junkies, dying hobos, and alienated workers stand utterly alone in a sparse landscape where hope comes, if at all, in merely surviving. For example, the woman who kills her rapist or the singer who unconvincingly declares her troubles have flown because "Winter's Come and Gone". Appropriately, Welch's stunning voice goes it alone, surrounded by little more than her own banjo and the spare old- time and country-blues guitar of partner David Rawlings. -David Cantwell.

It's not surprising that Josh Ritter is big in Ireland-his literate, highly romantic folk could have been tailored for that market. Having gained attention with his self-pressed debut, he pushes the boat out further on Hello Starling, trying to move beyond the evident influence of Bob Dylan. It doesn't always work. The up-tempo "Kathleen" and "Man Burning", with their swirling organs, clearly carry the mark of Zimmerman, as does the soft and heartfelt "You Don't Make It Easy Babe", a troubled ode to a troubling girl. But this doesn't necessarily matter. Ritter's vocal performances may lack the intensity and weight of Dylan or Leonard Cohen (the latter an equally heavy influence on "Wings"), but he has a charm and lightness of touch that will endear him to many. Beyond this, it's a real joy to hear a musician attempting ambitious narratives ("Wings", "Bone Of Song") where many singer-songwriters cower cravenly behind impressionistic cut-up techniques or, worse still, spatter us with self-obsessed drivel. Perhaps a few albums on, once Ritter has truly found his own voice, he could be considered a real find. Until then, particularly with the singalong anthem "Snow Is Gone", he will appeal hugely to those who appreciate the lighter side of David Gray. -Dominic Wills.

Before raising her profile as a solo artist, Emmylou Harris established herself as the harmony queen of contemporary music, from her partnership with Gram Parsons through sessions with the likes of Bob Dylan. Duets showcases her ability to bring out the best in other singers, though its grab-bag selection doesn't necessarily showcase Harris at her best. Released to capitalise on the success of her initial Trio project with Dolly Parton and Linda Ronstadt, it compiles her collaborations with a variety of artists from the late Parsons (their riveting rendition of "Love Hurts") to Southern Pacific ("Thing About You", a Tom Petty obscurity) to George Jones ("All Fall Down", an album highlight) to Don Williams (their hit duet of Townes Van Zandt's "If I Needed You"). From the sublime (Roy Orbison, Willie Nelson) to the irrelevant (John Denver, Earl T. Conley), this collection is more a marketplace filler than a cohesive artistic statement. -Don McLeese.

With their second album coming in at just over 35 minutes, no one could ever accuse the Thrills of going prog-Let's Bottle Bohemia sticks to the retro formula of the three-and-a-half-minute pop song, making it hugely accessible and instantly likeable. The opener "Tell Me Something I Don't Know" is a bit of a tease as the first chord crashes in like George Harrison's on "A Hard Days Night", then develops a Bowie-esque, glam swagger before hopping back to upbeat guitar pop for the rest of the album. Still sounding roughly as they did on So Much for the City, their style has developed more of its own identity, partly due to the lack of obvious American influences that recurred throughout their debut. "Faded Beauty Queens" and "You Can't Fool Old Friends With Limousines" are insanely catchy, reminiscent of "Don't Steal Our Sun" and "Big Sur"; "Whatever Happened to Corey Haim" is a rousing Phil Spector-esque wall of beautifully arranged sound; and "Not for All the Love in the World" is a rhythm-heavy ballad, led by a booming piano, the only downbeat song on the album. The album closer and sure to be live favourite is "The Irish Keep Gatecrashing", another catchy, almost jig-like number with a fantastic falsetto and harmonies in the chorus, a perfect way to finish the album. If Lets Bottle Bohemia needed to be summed up in one phrase it would have to be "quality over quantity". -David Trueman.

This 1989 album was k. d. lang's generous farewell to the country music world that had given her the cold shoulder after her stellar collaboration with legendary producer Owen Bradley on Shadowland. Songs such as "Pulling Back the Reins"-written by lang with co-producer guitarist Ben Mink-combined classic country and western imagery with more revealingly personal emotions. At the same time, the album maintained a sly sense of humour missing from much of her later work. The covers of Willie Nelson ("Three Days") and Wynn Stewart ("Big Big Love") certainly don't hurt. The Reclines, lang's band, is notable for the presence of Greg Leisz on steel guitar. -Rick Mitchell.