Pitchfork

Cowboy Junkies formed 20 years ago; this is their 10th proper album, in addition to a number of live recordings and odds-and-ends collections. They amassed this much material without a break, steadily releasing records and touring since the still-great The Trinity Sessions put them on the map in 1988. The band also retains a solid base of fans devoted to its distinctive countrified folk-pop.

Early 21st Century Blues-- released on the band's own label-- is a concept album, the subject matter of which you can probably guess from the peace sign painting on the cover. At the start of the year the band members met to discuss ideas for songs that addressed current political issues-- war, violence, greed, and so on. Over a few days they recorded nine covers and two Michael Timmons originals. Cowboy Junkies have always been skilled at absorbing the songs of others into their aesthetic, and for the most part this album flows like a collection of originals written to a theme.

This is the record's biggest plus, the way Cowboy Junkies still evoke a convincing mood of deliberate contemplation. The flawless diction of singer Margo Timmins keeps the lyrics in the foreground, each line clear and plain as the spare, subtle musical backing. The band's long stream of Bruce Springsteen covers continues with "Brothers Under the Bridge" and "You're Missing", both of which sound great in this environment. At their best, they can help you find new things in old songs. Turns out Bob Dylan's "License to Kill" from Infidels actually has a gorgeous melody wrapped around the cryptic and evocative lyrics.

Still, although there will always be certain comfort in Margo Timmins' voice, her limitations are frustrating. She can certainly deliver a song and make you hear the craft that went into its creation, but she never really inhabits one. She's never done abandon and has always preferred being a conduit for a songwriter to imparting her own personality. So the more familiar the song is, or the more the arrangement and production is pushed to the background, the less interesting the track becomes. Contrast Cowboy Junkies' plodding take here on George Harrison's "Isn't It a Pity" with Galaxie 500's untethered cover from On Fire. When we hear U2's "One" we can appreciate the song's mighty chords but never feel that sense of elevation. And then there's the cover of "I Don't Want to Be a Solider", which augments John Lennon's verses with fresh new rhymes from guest rapper Rebel. It's not as bad as "guest rap on a Cowboy Junkies album" would lead you to believe, but it's a misstep from a band that's done a surprisingly good job avoiding them.