Rhett Miller
The Instigator
Elektra

As if unable to change who he is and what he does, Rhett Miller sings "I could hide it in the attic/ I could bury it in static/ I could only put it out in Japan/ .../ This is what I do/ for a living." If it wasn't so forthright, it would sound like an excuse. But the train-driving rhythm and distorted guitar line make "This Is What I Do" a song of defiance, not justification. It's a simple concept, but a typical no-nonsense Miller one. At his best, Miller puts a subject, verb and object in lines as straight as Raymond Carver's.

The Instigator, Miller's first album without his cohorts from the alt-country Old 97's, mainly stays the course, with a few daring exceptions. Miller still writes love songs: The opener, "Our Love," is about the love letters Kafka and Wagner wrote to their respective ladies, and in "Four-Eyed Girl," Miller declares his unrequited love for a bookworm. But lest you think he's a one-trick pony, Miller makes sure to get across that he's been doing some deep reading (in addition to Kafka and Wagner, DeLillo gets name-checked in "World Inside the World"), pushing himself close to trying-too-hard territory.

Occasionally Miller puts himself in the perilous position of sounding like a high-school kid writing poetry while sitting on the roof of his car and thinking about his best gal back in third-period history class: "I try to make your world a better place/ I'd smother you in kisses/ I'd give you outer space," in "Your Nervous Heart." He's overly earnest at times.

To be fair, the slips are sporadic and never so far off-the-mark that you can't forgive him when the chorus comes around. These embarrassingly honest moments ("Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life?") are probably why Miller recorded solo this time, and many people will love him for the risks he takes. The band usually plays the role of editor to the petulant soul-baring author, so we get a more introspective Miller. But when he sings over twanging guitars "Two of us, in a double-feature/ I'm a rock 'n' roller, she's a science teacher/ I send her looks, they don't reach her/ she does not know I'm in love with her" he's in peak form, writing the free-and-easy lyrics, that then soar into a reverb-quenched "bah, bah bah" chorus, and he reminds you that his instincts should rarely be doubted.

Miller has an ability to write songs that seem to have always existed, although you've never heard them before, employing rollicking guitars, punctuated bass lines and instantly singable melodies. The songs on The Instigator swing a little less than his work in the 97's, but they careen forward a little faster, a little more recklessly on their countrified guitar licks. The second half of the disc explores some new territory, with instrumentation and melodies unlikely to appear on a 97's album: "Hover" has the shimmer of sleigh bells and vibes; "Terrible Vision" has three backup singers layering a thick confectionery mix a la World Party (which is really just second-rate Beatles). But any imperfections Miller has on this album were already there in Old 97's and shouldn't deter fans. The chances he takes are slight but bold — a little more sincerity, a little more musically risky. It's to be expected in a solo effort, and lauded.

The bandleader going solo is an interesting situation: as Miller sings in "World Inside a World," "Just 'cause freedom rings it doesn't mean we're free." Freedom worked commercial wonders for Miller's musical doppelgänger, Ryan Adams, who spits out more product than we need. Solo-hood made Adams appear like a vain, PR machine and less like a musician. Miller, a little more left of the dial, could benefit greatly from his one-man debut if it raises his profile while he stays away from crowing his merits, just letting the pop hooks of The Instigator snare the listener.

— Chris Gage (kiddigit at yahoo dot com)