The same old adjectives still apply to J.J. Cale: laid-back, mellow, mysterious. Seven albums down the line, Cale is plugging away at his own deliberate pace, never generating much momentum but never failing to deliver smoky, down-home music that fits as comfortably and as familiarly as a favorite pair of worn jeans. Too relaxed to ever really get upset, Cale nonetheless fills his tales of country boys with a vague sense of unease. The instruments could be speaking to each other in B-movie dialogue: "It's quiet," says the gentle, loping rhythm section. "Yeah," replies the edgy, softly metallic lead guitar. "Too quiet."

That sense of unsettled peace is at the heart of Cale's best songs, and it's especially present here in a stretch of vintage Cale that opens side two: the acoustic "Drifter's Wife," the brazen kiss-off of "Don't Wait" and, particularly, the marvelously insinuating "A Thing Going On." This last song is Grasshopper's haunting high point; it's just too bad that it isn't matched more often. (RS 371)

STEVE POND