One could go off the rails trying to explain the odd genius of . A born wanderer, a natural iconoclast, and a man who simply heard music his own way and was somehow able to sail the shark-infested waters of the music business on his own terms by out-sharking the sharks and doing what he pleased, defied easy definitions. He was a fascinating songwriter with a sort of desert Vegas cowboy vision of life, and he was a subtle, brilliant, and innovative producer in the studio, crafting recordings that had enough echo, space, and surprises that viewed him as a mentor. was every bit as eccentric as , too, and at the close of the '60s, he suddenly moved to Stockholm, started his own label, (Lee Hazlewood Industries), and turned out a fair amount of extremely interesting material, most of which wasn't even remotely aimed at commercial success. has begun an archival reissue series of some of these rare sides, and this set, which covers 1968 to 1971, is the first of these. With a sparse and yet somehow strangely lush production sound full of reverb and echo, spooky strings, and hushed percussion, sounds here like a resigned and weary ex-patriot cowboy version of crossed with -era , all of which would make these recordings simply curios if the songs weren't so good -- and they're good. "No Train to Stockholm" is brilliant, and so, too, is the bleak beauty of "If It's Monday Morning" and the weary wisdom of "I Just Learned to Run." manages to sound resigned, lightly disgusted, heartbroken, and deathbed wise as he sings his way through these songs, none of which ever hit anywhere near an AM radio station. It's easy to be excited for more volumes in this series after hearing this one. ~ Steve Leggett