down but not out. His second release, Whiskey for the Holy Ghost (1994), was even deeper, but within the same period, the Trees themselves didn't accomplish much, barely denting alternative-rock consciousness with "Nearly Lost You," from 1992's Sweet Oblivion.

MTV-era attention spans being what they are, the four-year gap between Screaming Trees releases ensures that Dust has a lot riding on it. In 10 solid psychedelic doses, the album carefully masters the balance between the Trees' punk-garage roots and their more complex lysergic visions. The songwriting formula is a good one: open delicately and work toward a climax. A plaintive acoustic guitar begins the down-homey "Dying Days," special guest Benmont Tench slips his organ in for atmosphere, and before long, layers of overdriven guitars and backup singers create the loudest back-porch sing-along in years.

More beautiful is "Sworn and Broken," which matches Lanegan's world-weary railroad whine with the guaranteed weepiness a cello brings. "Look at You" begins as a simple song of resignation before the somber tones resonate through increased amplification. The sitars of "Halo of Ashes" begin simply enough, then break into a Middle Eastern frenzy that Ravi Shankar would be proud of. The age-old lament "Gospel Plow" receives fresh life, since the Trees refuse to fossilize it with reverence.

Previously, you needed a good imagination to see where Screaming Trees were attempting to take their music. With Dust, they finally get there. (RS 738/739)

ROB O'CONNOR