David Crosby belongs to a generation of musicians for whom rock & roll was of the youth, by the youth and for the youth. Today, as rock enters its fifth decade and many of its most celebrated voices do the same, the notion that an artist should blaze briefly and then quit before the gray sets in has been dismissed as the specious myth it always was. Sadly, though, fantasies don't die as easily. For all the heartening stories of rockers who have cleaned up their acts, many of Crosby's age and younger continue to carry on as if they hope to die before they get old – or, perhaps, believe they'll never die at all. As recently as the '80s, Crosby was getting more attention for his drug abuse and run-ins with the law than for his music; for a while, it seemed as if the singer had decided that it was better to burn out – literally – than to fade away.

Fortunately, he has chosen neither option. Crosby is sober now, and his third solo album, Thousand Roads, represents some of his most compelling work to date. By turns witty and wistful, Roads is haunted by a tender nostalgia and empowered by a knowingness that comes only to those who have lived a few years and learned a few lessons. Given that, it's fitting that Crosby has enlisted support from some of the songwriters who have lent their talents to Bonnie Raitt's most recent projects: John Hiatt's "Through Your Hands," with its warm verses and inspiring refrain, is a highlight, while Paul Brady contributes the fragile ballad "Helpless Heart," and Bonnie Hayes lends "Coverage," which alludes to Crosby's previous inclination to get press for all the wrong reasons. "I got a mention in the Monday news," Crosby sings, "I was on my last leg."

As its title suggests, one of the album's principal themes is travel. There is a wanderlust made all the more poignant by the fact that Crosby is obviously at a point in his life when he has at least as many journeys behind as before him. "There's an ache in a traveling heart," he sings on the bittersweet "Columbus." "As the tide must ebb and flow/I wait ... for an end to my hunger."

The upside of aging, of course, is that you can always feed on your memories, and Crosby does so movingly on "Too Young to Die," a typically endearing Jimmy Webb composition about a young man and his car. "I recall my so-called misspent youth," the singer muses. "Life didn't come with a warranty.... There's peace in losing control." Perhaps, but as Thousand Roads demonstrates, Crosby has learned that it's also nice simply to settle back and enjoy the ride. (RS 665)

ELYSA GARDNER