James McMurtry's 'too long in the Wasteland' is one of the most auspicious debuts of recent years. The hyperverbal tales of small-town America that fill this winning album show McMurtry – the son of novelist Larry McMurtry – to be a full-grown, trenchant commentator with fervor to burn. He writes and performs with steady precision, but he's also capable of a track like "Talkin' at the Texaco," an offhand charmer so loose-limbed it sounds like it was recorded accidentally.

McMurtry isn't much of a singer – his flat, deadpan delivery places him somewhere between Lou Reed and Bruce Cockburn – but he's a straightforward, unpretentious one. McMurtry may come off as a bit too enamored of his position as a modern-day troubadour, but that self-consciousness seems to stem from a deep belief in his material, not an interest in showing off. Producer John Mellencamp never lets the proceedings veer too close to navel gazing: "Painting by Numbers," "I'm Not From Here" and "Too Long in the Wasteland" charge by with real intensity.

Although the stunning, subtle lyrics on Too Long in the Wasteland will undoubtedly get the most attention, this record isn't just an excuse for a strong lyric sheet. On Too Long in the Wasteland, arrangements never fail to expand on all kinds of lyric ideas. This is a formidable rock & roll arrival that demands attention. (RS 563)

JIMMY GUTERMAN