Joe Jackson Band
Volume 4
Restless/Ryko

During their respective breakouts from the late-1970s UK rock scene, Elvis Costello put together the Attractions, Graham Parker worked with the Rumour and Joe Jackson had, well, three backing musicians without a distinct band name. Guitarist Sanford, bassist Maby and drummer Houghton may have been anonymous in terms of a memorable collective moniker, but they were as important to the identity and success of Jackson's first three albums as Jackson himself.

Jackson's decision to revive his working relationship with those three men — Gary Sanford, Graham Maby and Dave Houghton — probably couldn't have been more under the radar, an oddity in the hype-driven music industry. Nevertheless, Volume 4 is a rare example of a reunion in which the resulting album is artistically successful and equal to prior efforts.

Volume 4, naturally, is a nod to the foursome's past, and for all the right reasons. They're not young men anymore, but Jackson and Co. still have solid chops and plenty of stamina, relying on themselves and no outside musicians, just like the old days. As a result, the arrangements are lean, and each instrument is distinguishable — appropriately enough, the playing is busy on the faster numbers (such as "Take It Like a Man") and sparse on the slower tunes ("Blue Flame").

There's a welcome dose of humor on the infectious, ska-flavored "Thugz 'R' Us," during which Maby and Houghton seize the opportunity to strut as a rhythm section, with Maby's lively bass a fitting contrast to Houghton's firm, sparse beat. A less-skilled lyricist might have gone too far in poking fun at hip-hop's influence on well-to-do white suburbia, but Jackson keeps it light and still makes his point about the bored youngsters who live vicariously through Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre.

The album's best song is the tender ballad "Love at First Light," an almost cinematic take on the inevitable uneasiness that occurs the day after a one-night stand. The narrator has a hard time recalling the other person's name and deciding what to do once they're both awake, all the while wondering if something substantial exists between them that might sustain a relationship of length and value. Jackson strikes piano chords to match the stammering lyrics and melody at the beginning of each verse, and during the entire tune, Houghton's subdued, military-style brush work on his snare accentuates how delicate the situation is.

Throughout Volume 4, Jackson's lyrical perspective is that of someone who's been around the block a few times, but still doesn't have all the answers. In the feisty "Awkward Age," he voices a character who shares his pre-adult memories with a teen outcast about the days of "being left so high and dry," but admits that as a grown-up — even though he's made social progress — he's as uncomfortable and uncertain as ever. The call-and-response section of the chorus between Jackson and the others is as enthusiastic as it is encouraging — a support group armed with instruments instead of a 12-step program.

Following his previous album with Maby, Sanford and Houghton, 1980's Beat Crazy, Jackson boldly and frequently explored genres other than rock. During those forays, he employed other musicians and occasionally worked with Maby, but not Sanford or Houghton. As a result, Jackson never really came close to rocking out with conviction over the past 20-plus years like he did at the start of his career — until now. Volume 4, Jackson's reunion with the trio, marks a wise trade of extreme elegance and exploration for early edginess and earnestness.

— Chris M. Junior (chrisjr@mindspring.com)