compared, Hiatt had often been unable or unwilling to drop his literate front and talk plainly.

So Bring the Family was a welcome shock, an unexpected hug from someone you were convinced was too reserved to open up. Recorded at a crucial time in his career – he had just been dropped by his third record company – the album was a bare-bones masterpiece. Numbers like the slyly rocking "Memphis in the Meantime" and the soft benediction "Learning How to Love You" were instant classics: in just a few verses, they gave you a sense of full, real lives.

The only problem with an album like Bring the Family is having to follow it up. After shelving his first attempt, Hiatt recorded Slow Turning, a collection of twelve sturdy, likable songs, all played with taste and fire. It doesn't offer the sense of stripped-down discovery that made Bring the Family so special, but that would be too much to expect. Still recording quickly (in less than three weeks) and with a small band (the Goners, Hiatt's terse, empathetic touring trio), Hiatt and veteran producer Glyn Johns (Who's Next) turn down the volume to get a low-key sound that expands on many of the triumphs of Bring the Family without trying to upstage them.

Playing with the Goners (guitarist Sonny Landreth, bassist David Ranson and drummer Ken Blevins) gives Hiatt the freedom and security to play around with his phrasing and dive deep into his new songs. On uptempo tracks like "Drive South" and "Ride Along," the single-minded band struts beside the wry singer. The most lasting of the few new rockers is "Tennessee Plates," a hilarious tale of a car thief with an unusual target (he steals one of Elvis's Graceland Cadillacs), put across with as much verve as, say, "Burning Love." "Tennessee Plates" cruises like a supercharged Caddy until it stops short in the last verse to drop off the punch line. The band laughs along with Hiatt and drives off.

As with Bring the Family, Hiatt populates Slow Turning with unforgettable characters. The cheery lovers in the down-home Bonnie and Clyde update "Trudy and Dave," the tight families in "Georgia Rae" and the title tune and the bar-stool expert in "Paper Thin" are all carefully drawn and not merely some songwriter's abstractions: they breathe, they bleed. Only the uneasy couple in "Icy Blue Heart" seems a bit unreal. Young fami