Reviewed by Dave Massey

Hiatt has trodden a lonely path through the music business, an outsider for whom critical acclaim and respect from fellow artists has had to substitute for record sales and mass acceptance. Still, his chosen genre of hard-bitten country rock troubadour fits the up and down career to a tee - life imitating art, or what? This latest album seems likely to gain Hiatt his widest audience so far. As usual, it's lyrically exceptional and the guitar-fuelled backing pumps it out like the boys were having a good time playing their local bar. Hiatt's voice is gruff enough to sound like he gargles with grit before breakfast and his delivery is all his own, though reference points would be Dylan, Mellen-camp and Seeger. As I said, he's been through the mill and he's not shy of talking about it. "So I took me a job/and I took me a wife/and I took to a bottle of wine/And it did not take long till all I had left/Was this junk in the back of my mind ". What's unusual about this album, and what sets it apart from the usual maudlin confessional singer-songwriter genre is the hope and downhome spirituality it offers. "I used to drink a lot in those days you see/Ya, that's just the way the wind blows/These days the only bar I ever see/has got lettuce and tomatoes...well I couldn't dream this life I'm livin'/somehow we just survived and every waste of time forgiven." ("Stolen Moments") The ex-alcoholic and walking disaster area has found a new purpose and delight in life itself - though he's still coming to terms with his past mistakes. He writes movingly of the love between a man and wife, and achieves the near-impossible, creating credible rock-hymns to domestic bliss in "Real Fine Love" and "Bring Back Your Love To Me." That's not to say his vision is dulled, and his sarcasm can still bite on a track like "Rock Back Billy", a song to a never-quite-has-been muso living on his fantasies...still, on a track like "Listening To Old Voices" it's the impression of a man who's come through the fire and found a place of peace that endures. "There's a spider at my window/ and she spins a web of truth/More beautiful than all these memories/ And she surely is God's artist/As she's caught the morning dew/it's a simple prayer that brings me to my knees" Savour these moments.

The opinions expressed in this article are not necessarily those held by Cross Rhythms. Any expressed views were accurate at the time of publishing but may or may not reflect the views of the individuals concerned at a later date.

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