Williams gets gritty out 'West'

Lucinda Williams' 2003 release World Without Tears, with its jaw-dropping, bitter musings of a scorned woman, is a hard album to follow, but the old-soul, rode-hard lyricist's newest album succeeds in punching the listener in the gut and leaving very little to be desired. The gritty, honest and raw sounds that die-hard fans have come to expect play out in spades in her latest album, West. From the first track crying out from the vantage point of a concerned best friend to the last track of nonreciprocal long-distance longing, the master wordsmith weaves the stories of an intelligent, passionate human being carrying on under the weight of universal truths. \nHer voice, that of a 60-year-old chain-smoking soul singer with the wisdom of 10 lifetimes, gravelly and full, couldn't be better suited to convey her signature heartbreaking lyrics of homesickness, betrayal and lust. To pick a few highlights of this album is a futile endeavor. Each song brings its own unique charms, tapping into individual nuanced emotions for anyone who has taken chances with life and masochistically absorbed the pain of opening the self to love. In particular, "Unsuffer Me," "Come On" and "Wrap My Mind Around" give voice to a familiar theme for Lucinda -- bitter, carefully chosen turns of phrase conveying the rage, heartsickness and sexual frustration from being cast aside. The scorned woman is back with a brilliant vengeance and with no ambiguity. With lyrics like: "You can't even light my fire, so fuck off, you didn't even make me come," the man who hurt her knows exactly who he is and is most likely hiding under a rock somewhere. \nHer tender, heartbroken side comes out in "Are You Alright?" "Where is my Love" and the title track, "West," with a deep honesty of longing that strikes a chord with anyone who has adored from afar. Her e.e. cummings-esque poetry, coupled with the old-school sounds of the Delta blues can't help connecting to the listener's soul.\nNot a single song on this album is superfluous or forced, but each is a complete encapsulation of raw and honest humanity that the world cannot be without. The only possible complaint could rest with the heavy-handed production methods, ending up with a far cleaner instrumental sound than is appropriate for her voice and themes. With hope, the production of her next album will be more reminiscent of her garage-quality 2001 release Essence, dirty and undeniably sexy. This unfortunate blight on an otherwise flawless album does not change the fact that West should become a staple of the broken-hearted and amorously unrequited. A bottle of bourbon, a pack of cigarettes, West and a few lonely hours can only be good for the weary soul.