Long Way Around: An Anthology 1991-2001
CHRIS WHITLEY
Columbia/Legacy

Genius: The Best of Warren Zevon
WARREN ZEVON
Elektra/Rhino

'Tis the season of compilations. In the coming weeks, major record companies will stack shelves with an array of greatest-hits compilations and artist retrospectives. Two of the best — Chris Whitley's Anthology and Warren Zevon's Genius — contain one proper "hit" between them. These retrospectives exist for the right reason: They comprise great music made by great artists.

Whitley was the misfit genius of the '90s. His brilliant blend of urban grit, Delta soul and high lonesome was never understood by his label after the semi-success of his debut Living with the Law. His career nosedived; his tenure at Sony turned sour and ended badly. His small, rabid cult of fans has followed him through subsequent associations with smaller labels.

It's a bit surprising, then, that Anthology was put together so lovingly by Sony's reissue division. To wit: Four songs from his cacophonous 1995 masterpiece Din of Ecstasy are presented with more kinetic early mixes — before, according to Whitley, too much pressure was applied by "outside influences." The collection also includes four crisp 1992 demos showcasing Whitley's slurry, ragged vocals accompanied only by his National steel guitar. Further, Legacy went so far as to license material from his low-budget wonder, Dirt Floor (Messenger), and "Say Goodbye," from last year's atmospheric Rocket House (ATO).

All of Whitley's music has the deep cry of the blues, vividly evoking desperation, desolation, dissolution. The music remains an uncompromising gift; all serious pop music fans should at least be aware of it. Anthology is the place to start.

The 55-year-old Zevon, as you may have heard, is terminal. Lung cancer. It adds some measure of poignancy to the release of this 22-song best-of set, especially to longtime fans. It's been 15 years since he's made an album of true consequence, Sentinmental Hygiene, but that does not for a minute undercut that he was (make that, is) a true original.

Zevon's only Top 40 hit was 1978's "Werewolves of London." Because it's a novelty song, it hasn't aged well in the popular psyche. That's too bad. The tune contains one of the more ingenious lines of the rock era: "Little old lady got mutilated late last night." Say it out loud. Dig the pure sound of the words, how they tumble off the tongue.

Most of Zevon's albums, especially in later years, were uneven affairs, which makes the compilation format all the better. Rhino has cherry-picked the best stuff from his entire career — all the way up to "Genius," from this year's My Ride's Here.

Along the way, we get the gamut of emotion, from tear-stained love songs ("Reconsider Me") to a tale about mercenaries ("Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner"). Zevon is one of the wittiest, one of the funniest, pop songwriters ever. The chorus of my favorite Zevon song, the crunching "Lawyers, Guns and Money," still makes me chuckle. A wayward guy has gotten himself into such a pickle that he calls home with the simple instructions, "Send lawyers, guns and money." That's part of Zevon's genius; he rarely oversells the punchline.

And just to confirm that Zevon has not lost his sense of humor, the albums' cover art features a pipe-smoking skull face with the artist peering out of the left eye socket. Watching us from the beyond the Great Divide?

Whitley:

Zevon:

—Eric Snider

Sacred System: Book of Exit
BILL LASWELL
ROIR

Not a whole lot happens on Laswell's fourth installment of his Dub Chamber series. And that's pretty much what makes the disc so damn hip. It's remarkable what a guy can do with a few drowsy reggae/Afro/funk beats, some seriously fat bass lines, sparse percussion and judiciously applied effects. Laswell is joined by fellow travelers Karsh Kale and Aiyb Dieng. The wild card here is Ethiopian chanteuse GiGi, whose wispy, ethereal voice graces a few of the songs, lending a welcome melodic element that never dominates the sound. Great background music. Great mood music. Great head music. Not recommended for use while operating heavy machinery.

—Eric Snider

Trust
LOW

Kranky Low devotees may initially be put off by the adventurous new arrangements on Trust, the band's sixth full-length. Ears accustomed to sparse sonic purity might be alarmed by the liberal use of effects, the occasional gated drum sound, unidentifiable glitch-like noises, thick synth ambiences and, in one case, a banjo. This alarm, however, will be unfounded. As always, a couple of tracks find Low in an unlistenably lugubrious mode. But the moments of beauty that make the band essential listening — sweet undercurrents of hope shining their way through sorrowful songs — are still intact. And the dual male/female vocals continue to reach mournfully toward heaven. Trust is not Low faltering; it's the band finding the next step in their consistently intriguing evolution.