Some songwriters thrive on misery, but John Hiatt is finished suffering for his art. The years of selfdestruction are well behind this sober family man, who now delivers funny, touching lines like "These days the only bar I ever see/Has got lettuce and tomatoes" without sanctimony or regret.

Hiatt tested the musical merits of personal happiness on his ingratiating 1988 release Slow Turning, but on Stolen Moments – also produced by Glyn Johns – he has stopped pinching himself and learned to accept peace. The sincere expressions of love and insight surge with easy confidence, while a new stable of sidemen provide consistently appealing support, fleshing out the sturdy songs and passionate vocals with an array of distinctive guitar sounds. Stylistically, there's nothing on Stolen Moments that Hiatt hasn't done before – heartland rock, Philly soul, stately folk or countrified swing – but a joyful mood and a substantial debt to Bob Dylan distinguish it from his nine previous albums.

As Hiatt's gotten happy, he's hardly grown complacent. Among heartfelt pledges of romantic devotion ("Real Fine Love") and parental commitment ("The Rest of the Dream"), he recounts an affecting family history ("Seven Little Indians"), reflects evenly on the past ("Stolen Moments") and acknowledges his darker side ("Back of My Mind") without flinching. He preaches emotional surrender in "Listening to Old Voices" and offers a humanist analogue to Dylan's spiritual grand statement "Every Grain of Sand" in the beautiful "Through Your Hands."

Abandoning fiery youth for well-adjusted adulthood has left many artists with nothing to say. Not so with John Hiatt – now that he's settled down, he's just beginning to find his true voice. (RS 582-583)

IRA ROBBINS