Even today the stereotype lingers that country songs are all words – storytelling lyrics backed by merely functional music. That cliché can be shattered once and for all with a listen to Dwight Yoakam's first studio album in two and a half years. On Gone, the lyrics are utilitarian – the pleasure and revelations come out of the music. Yoakam runs through well-worn tales of faded love, but this familiar subject matter is made fresh again by the heart-grabbing poignancy of his slow melodies, the joyful release of his fast tunes and the pure intensity of his vocals.

As the baby-boomer grandson of a coal miner, Yoakam listened to the Beatles and heard echoes of Buck Owens, the Everly Brothers, Carl Perkins and Roy Orbison. On Gone and his previous studio album, This Time, Yoakam has taken the Beatles' sideline interest in hillbilly music and turned it into a full-blown obsession.

The honky-tonk lament "Sorry You Asked" is full of George Jones-style flourishes: Check out the way Yoakam practically yodels the end of the first verse, the way he dives down for a basement note at the end of the third. But the song is full of Beatlesque touches, too: longtime producer Pete Anderson's Buddy Holly-like guitar fills, the close-interval harmony vocals, the unexpected key modulation. The result is cutting-edge country pop. Similarly, the title track barrels straight ahead like a train out of Bakersfield, Calif., headed for Liverpool, England. This twangy confession of a footloose man is pure Merle Haggard, with solid rock & roll momentum provided by a galloping drumroll part, a fast-and-furious guitar solo and dizzying three-part-harmony vocals.

The first single, "Nothing," is a moody ballad full of shivering guitar, thickened string and horn charts, and end-of-the-rope vocals. And flat-out rockers like "Never Hold You" and "One More Night" capture the revved-up energy of Yoakam's live shows. If there's a weakness here, it's in the writing: The lyrics aren't nearly as original or as personal as the playing. For Yoakam, words are merely the props for the grand drama of his music. (RS 723)

GEOFFREY HIMES