The success of Alanis Morissette, Tracy Bonham, et al., makes it easy to assume that contemporary female rockers are all under 30, single and titanically pissed off at the loutish men in their lives. But Amy Rigby – who is married and a mom, and has left her 20s behind – proves with her trenchant, roots-pop solo album, Diary of a Mod Housewife, that unbridled rage isn't the only valid emotion that a female rocker can express.

A longtime New Yorker, Rigby was a member of the all-girl trio the Shams (two early '90s releases on Matador) and also sang with the punkabilly combo Last Roundup. On Diary, she combines the world-wise, folky eclecticism of the Shams and the twangy, heartaching urgency of her work with the Roundup in a dozen exquisitely crafted tracks that ex-Cars guitarist Elliot Easton, who produced most of the album, has buffed to a sleek finish while retaining the music's roadhouse-bar-band feel. The result is a rock & roll album that speaks for those wives and mothers who still hit the club circuit whenever they can scare up a sitter and who would rather fold laundry to PJ Harvey than Mariah Carey.

Rigby's musical chronicle embodies a feeling of wry resignation: Life's a bitch when you're chasing the guy who doesn't want to be caught. And once you and he have finally said, "I do," the relentless familiarity of the marital state can erode even the most towering passion. In "Beer and Kisses," a fervent duet with John Wesley Harding. Rigby laments the loss of "the thing we had for each other/Way back when we first met." The clenched-teeth, garage-rock sound of "That Tone of Voice," fortified by some ominous organ played by Ira Kaplan of Yo La Tengo, signals that Rigby has gotten fed up with her uncommunicative mate. Throughout the album, Easton's sculpted lead-guitar work effectively complements Rigby's plaintive acoustic picking.

By turns spirited ("The Good Girls"), elegiac ("Sad Tale") and acutely funny ("20 Questions"), the emotional honesty of Diary of a Mod Housewife is heightened by Rigby's marvelous, urban-honky-tonk-angel voice. The album ends on a desperately hopeful note with "We're Stronger Than That," a song that is more plea than statement – and a last-stand anthem for mod housewives everywhere. (RS 747)

MOIRA MCCORMICK