There probably isn't a country fan around who isn't happy about the
colossal renassiance of country music in the past few years. The genre has garnered more respect, power and prestige than ever. There also isn't a TRUE country fan around, whose heart doesn't bleed mightily from the double-edged, gilded sword that this new renassiance has manifested itself as - espcially when it comes to male solo artists. While many of the "hat acts" of the present country scene make decent songs, their ominpresence has sickingly caused legends to become afterthoughts where radio and record labels are concerned. Even George Jones has been fired from his label. Many other legends have started independent labels to have someplace to record their music, where it doesn't matter that they are NOT under 40 years old, and don't look like they just came from a cowboy frat party.

One of those legends who has fallen victim to this shift in what
Nashville thinks is the bottom line right now, is the legendary "Waylon
Jennings." On his 72nd album, "Closing In On The Fire," Waylon expertly
deals with this in an ironic fashion. He doesn't apply the "If you can't
beat 'em, join them" philosophy in order to triumph. Instead, he humiliates them - with the "them" being the powers that be in country music, who think a male solo singer in Country is supposed to sing nothing but homogenous fluff.

He doesn't exactly do it by flag-waving the roots of his stunning output that sold albums by the truckload in the 70's and 80's, including the first album to ever go platinum by a solo country artist, 1977's "Ol' Waylon." Instead, he branches out to create an album so daring and inventive, but still SO Waylon, that it could be the quintessential example of Waylon's mantra, ". . .to me . . . Blues, Rock and Country have always only been about a beat apart."

For openers, anyone expecting echoes of "Good Hearted Woman" is going to be rather shocked at the first notes they hear on the first track, which are something akin to a synthesized Marimba. Yes, a marimba, not a steel guitar or a lilting fiddle. This title track, "Closing In On The Fire," then slow burns into a bluesy lust ode that contains so much depth that a frat-boy "hat act" would faint just from the heat it emanates.

The rollicking duet with Travis Tritt, "I Know About Me, I Don't Know About You," not only gives us more proof of Waylon's defiance, but also
shows that he can create fire as a duet partner with more than just Willie
or Hank Jr. The first of Waylon's self-penned tunes on the disc, "Best
Friends of Mine," recalls the feel of "Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?" without being a retread, and you realize WHY Waylon is the legend he is.

The soaring balladeer in Waylon, immortalized in legendary singles
such as "Amanda" and "Come With Me," is represented here in "Just Watch Your Mama and Me," featuring Waylon's equally talented wife of nearly 30 years, Jessi Colter. The pretty and touching "Be Mine" is another example.

Sting, and pop chanteuse Sheryl Crow, contribute to the almost Chuck
Barry type hot tune "She's Too Good For Me." This song might very well be the highlight of the album. "Back Home (Where I Come From)" has to be the "country-pop"-iest song ever on the same album with a Rolling Stones Cover. Said Stones re-make is the album's rocking closer, "No Expecations." So shocking is Waylon's complete assimilation of this song, it makes you wonder if the Rolling Stones' heart is truly more "Honky Tonk Woman" than "Sympathy for the Devil."

The other Waylon-penned tracks, "The Blues Don't Care" and "Easy
Money," mix country rock and gritty jazz influence into a burst of
chili-powdered sound that white-bread country radio SHOULD be killing to get its hands on. The Kevin Welch-written "Untitled Waltz" is the only tune that is almost a misstep. Its a song that can't decide if it's some sort of honky-tonk David Allen Coe commentary, a parody of a Circus Waltz with too many syncopations, or both.

"Untitled Waltz" is one of only a few minor drawbacks on this killer of a disc that keep it from being a five. Some of the instrumental licks go on a tad too long, while some of the hottest parts of the album, including "She's Too Good For Me," seem to be over almost before they get started. On a track with so much talent involved, it seems like a shame.

Finally, while Waylon darts from style to style with aplomb, thumbing his nose (maybe giving his finger) at country radio with assurance, the album is short enough that SO much variety between the tracks is a tad
jarring. But too much is a hell of a lot more welcome complaint than not enough.

For everyone who misses gems like the songs on this disc, because
they only listen to what country music radio tells them to, 'fraid it's
y'all's loss. With music like this, and the incredible amount of fun that
Waylon sounds like he's having making it, it sure as hell ain't his.