Anyone hoping that 's "Hellbilly" band would finally make it onto one of his albums is still out of luck, but 's third solo effort comes close to getting their no-quarter spirit onto plastic, if not their sound. Taking the no-frills hard- sound of 2002's as a starting point, pumps a good bit more darkness into the mix; mostly recorded at home on a digital portastudio, begins with a sample of ' interrupted by a burst of demonic laughter, which then segues into the title tune, a testimony to a life of cheap thrills and dangerous living that sounds like a classic rounding the corners at 90-miles-an-hour with empty bottles of bourbon propping open the windows. A similar mix of old-school and chemically-fueled rebellion run through songs like and and even the less menacing tunes like boast too much swagger and grit to fit comfortably on the radio next to or . While 's self-mythologizing outlaw stance is not entirely unlike that of his father, there's a crazier and more sinister energy to than has ever conjured up on record, and numbers like eloquently testify to his notion that bad craziness is a long and rich tradition along the margins of Nashville. (He also has a few things to say about hanging out with on to confirm he's most certainly not turning into his dad.) The album's most extreme departure point, however, is the bonus audio collage which combines a handful of high-lonesome tunes with layers of noise, bits of found dialogue, -wise echo and reverb effects, stray telephone messages, and sound effects ranging from thunderstorms to gurgling bong water. There's a pure and soulful musical vision at the heart of no matter how much lashes out against the confines of current music and messes with the form, and that's what makes him most valuable as an outlaw -- there's lots of long-haired dope-smoking rednecks out there, but not many that can tap into the sweet and dirty heart of American music the way does, and proves he's got a whole lot to say on that particular subject. ~ Mark Deming