This is how bluesed-up macho rock ought to be served: sizzling hot and extra lean, seasoned with a sneaky sense of humor. On his solo debut, Love Songs for the Hearing Impaired, the former Georgia Satellites frontman commands attention like an smart bar-stool bard. Dan Baird spins ribald white-trash tales to familiar Chuck Berry-derived boogie, yet the guitars emit a stinging immediacy. Retro it's not – really.

Baird and producer-guitarist Brendan O'Brien also have the foresight to erect a concrete wall of sound behind the woolly shenanigans described in the lyrics. Though their raucously amplified music couldn't be further from country in terms of sheer wallop, the singer's observant narrative voice recalls the humorous story songs of Sixties Nashville vets like Tom T. Hall and Roger Miller.

Reminiscing about the local Stuckey's in Waste-Your-Time, Kentucky, on "Julie and Lucky" or conveying the desperate nature of a wet-T-shirt contest in "Dixie Beauxderaunt," Baird links his eye for detail to his ear for riff-driven sing-along choruses. "I Love You Period," the plea of a stumbling but articulate guy, reveals his not-so-secret sensitive side. "Knocked Up," a realistic examination of "family values," revels in his rude-boy notion of a good joke. "Pick Up the Knife" reverberates with a guitar buzz that registers in the red zone. He even gets away with invoking Jack Kerouac on "Seriously Gone" and stealing a title from Hank Williams on "Lost Highway."

Juggling his love of rowdy jam kicking with his intuitive feel for language, Baird strikes a blow for rock & roll maturity on this album. He's not settling for thirtysomething-style verities, either. The Black Crowes, Baird's Southern-rock younger brothers, will be lucky if they sound so vital in ten years' time. (RS 648)

MARK COLEMAN