STEVE EARLE
Jerusalem
(E-Squared/Artemis )
Steve Earle does what the hell he wants, and as much of it as he wants. Jerusalem is his sixth CD in six years that have found him doing the singer-songwriter gig (Train A-Comin'), Southern-informed rock (I Feel Alright), sprawling roots music (El Corazon), bluegrass (The Mountain), and fine pop (Transcendental Blues). And not surprisingly, Jerusalem doesn't fit neatly in any particular box, which is okay. It's got acoustic bits, electric sheen, electronic accents and attitude—lots of attitude.

The intention here is mostly to comment on post-9/11 America, and Earle's a fine candidate for just that. He's always written the kind of razor lines that had critics calling him country music's savior as far back as '86's Guitar Town. Earle's just too honest and untamable to be mentioned in the same breath as Nashville these days, though there's no doubt he's firmly ensconced as a modern songsmith with few equals.

That said, well, Jerusalem just doesn't bring the heat. The press kit uses strong words like "patriot," and makes clear that Earle's love of this nation won't let him turn a blind eye to the siphoning of rights in the interest of chasing terrorists. The CD, though, isn't nearly so interesting. It's hard to say if it's just that hard to make political statements work against a 4/4 backbeat, or if the stiffness lent to the affair by the occasional sample or handclaps undermines the intentions.

"Ashes to Ashes," which opens, is a case in point. The song hooks around a vocal sample and some backward tracks, with apocalyptic harmonica that fleshes out the mood but can't lend the necessary soul. "Amerika v. 6.0 (The Best We Can Do)" might be called Stonesy if not for the rigid backbeat and hints of electronic tinkering. Still, it's hard not to be stirred when he sings, "Our forefathers made us equal as long as we can pay." "Conspiracy Theory" is somehow discomfiting as female backup vocals ring in the chorus ("Hush now, don't you believe it/Cover your head and close your eyes"). The analogy here is between the Vietnam war and the current U.S. approach to terrorism and Saddam Hussein. The line "Fifty thousand sons that never grew to fathers/Don't you wonder what they might have been?" is chilling.

And of course, there's "John Walker's Blues," the controversial first-person vignette about John Walker Lindh, known as the American Taliban because he waged jihad against the USA in Afghanistan. It's difficult to see exactly why so many feathers have been ruffled. The song unfolds as the story of "an American boy raised on MTV" who looked at his culture and his country and didn't like what he saw. He started "looking around for a light out of the dim," and found that Islam gave him something to believe in. Neither tearful jingoism nor stretch of the mind should convince listeners that Earle has written a song that's particularly offensive, anti-American, or for that matter, particularly good. Given what he's capable of, this one reeks of novelty. Fifteen years later, Earle still does "Copperhead Road" in concert; fifteen years from now he won't be playing "John Walker's Blues."

Far more effective is "What's A Simple Man To Do?" Though it sounds more than a little like the Texas Tornadoes' "Adios Mexico" (complete with Farfisa organ), the story of the Mexican maquiladora worker-turned-amateur-drug-dealer resonates with truth. Note that it's not particularly political. On "The Truth," set against stark banjo, a man in prison says of the guard, "He's no less a prisoner 'cause he holds the key/And God forbid he turns his back on me." Considering Earle's own stretch in behind bars, the voice of experience is powerful. "Admit that what scares you is the me in you," he sings, and he's right. On the title track Earle sings about violence on "the ground where Jesus stood," and despite the painful imagery, he grits his teeth and finds optimism. "But I believe there'll come a day when the lion and the lamb/Will lie down in peace together in Jerusalem," he sings, playing harmonica over ringing electric guitar and mandolin, and it's a refreshing finish to an otherwise muddled CD.

It's disappointing that given the times, Earle couldn't come up with a CD for the ages. Springsteen has supposedly found a second wind these days, and every hat act in Nashville tops the charts with chest-thumping songs about kicking ass. Most of Jerusalem feels sterile and stifled, and Earle's occasional penchant for moaning and exhaling his way through a song doesn't help. As a group of songs seeking the pulse of the USA, Jerusalem is surprisingly lifeless. Brian Briscoe [buy it]

For fans of: Jack Ingram, Townes Van Zandt, Slaid Cleaves