In the notes accompanying his second solo album, David Baerwald says: "In the daytime, I'm generally so pissed off I can hardly breathe. At night, I'm mostly just sad and scared out of my wits." Heavy. But how does that translate to songwriting? On Triage, the dark twists that gave the slight love songs from Bedtime Stories (1990) some weight have turned black and burdensome.

Triage has a nice ring to it. From the low folkie strum of "A Bitter Tree" to the cacophonous dirge of "They Got No Shotgun Hydrahead Octopus Blues," it's stylistically varied, decorated with lots of guitar effects and given allure by Baerwald's sometimes sleepy, sometimes straining voice. The trouble is that almost all of the ten songs fall into a sanctimonious muddle.

Baerwald is a suspicious guy. Doesn't trust anyone – not the cops, certainly not the government. He probably imagines there's corruption lurking in the breadbox. It's a very Seventies attitude, which may explain why he sounds a little like Jackson Browne or Johnny Cougar with a political conscience. An anti-establishment paranoia snakes its way through the serenity of "The Postman," which is invaded by snippets of Bush speeches and the sound of incoming choppers. "China Lake" (a reminiscence of lost innocence) and "A Secret Silken World" (an illicit tale of "vodka and handcuffs" that starts with plucked strings and Herb Albert's sexy horn) work better: They're stories told with detail instead of diagramed with a heavy hand. While the sun shines and guitars ring on "A Brand New Morning," Baerwald himself admits, "I don't know why I take it so hard." It may be the simplest song on this arduous record. It's also the best. (RS 653)

CHRISTIAN WRIGHT