John Hiatt

He stood right at the brink of something bigger for so damn long that you can't really blame John Hiatt for finally sitting back and relaxing on his last decade or so of records. This Indiana-born singer/songwriter has a plethora of slightly neurotic gems sprinkled throughout his bumpy career: witty 'n' warm love songs that have provided hits for Three Dog Night ("Sure As I'm Sittin' Here," from Hangin' Around the Observatory) and Bonnie Raitt ("Thing Called Love," from Bring the Family). Stylistic uncertainity and a wavering vocal attack marred even the best of Hiatt's own albums, though several have much to recommend them and none (save the Tony Visconti-produced synth-pop disaster All of a Sudden) are outright duds. The Epic albums (Observatory and Overcoats) are his most country-oriented, though Hiatt would return to Nashville in the mid-'80s after a new wave-inspired spell. "Slug Line" failed to establish Hiatt as the American Elvis Costello, but the rangier, nervously rockin' accompaniment accentuates the slightly twisted hooks of "You're My Love Interest," "Radio Girl," and the title track. Despite his flair for sardonic rockers, Hiatt also evinces a talent for disarmingly pretty ballads with "Washable Ink" (exquisitely covered by the Neville Brothers a few years later). "Two Bit Monsters" is a somewhat pallid followup in the same mode; "Pink Bedroom" (later claimed by Rosanne Cash) is the only true keeper in the pile. Hiatt's wicked sense of humor comes to the fore on the confident "Riding With the King," bolstered by the producing and bass-thumping presence of Nick Lowe. The double-edged title track and "She Loves the Jerk" cut far beyond the sur-face yuks.

Typically, Hiatt follows up this artistic turning point with another shaky holding-pattern album: On Warming Up to the Ice Age, a heavy-handed AOR mix sabotages sterling heartbreak sagas like "The Usual" and "She Said the Same Things to Me." Recorded with a band consisting of Lowe, Ry Cooder, and drummer Jim Keltner, Bring the Family greatly benefits from their loose, spacious tone and bluesy input. Not quite the breakthrough impatient fans and critics hyped it as, Bring the Family is still one of Hiatt's most consistent efforts. Hiatt reaches a mature peak on Slow Turning, recorded with his tight regular road band; the heartfelt hearth-and-home scenarios ("Georgia Rae," "Is Anybody There?") lend contrast and depth to the gleefully perverse stompers ("Drive South," "Trudy & Dave," "Tennessee Plates"). But when Hiatt kicks off the too-satisfied "Stolen Moments" by declaring himself "unworthy" of his woman's "real fine love," his self-deprecating gift starts to resemble a glib automatic reaction.

By the time the '90s rolled around, there was no sense in complaining about Hiatt's gargly voice -- either you accepted it or you'd already moved on. But his '90s output didn't add too much to his canon -- Perfectly Good Guitar sounded like the work of a crank who happened to glance at the TV over the bar between sets and catch Nirvana on SNL. Among the compilations, Hip-O's Anthology is the most comprehensive, Capitol's Best of the most consistent. But even here Hiatt's a victim of his own success -- he'd have less money in the bank if Bonnie Raitt and Roseanne Cash hadn't seen fit to cover him, but because they did, his own versions of songs like "Thing Called Love" and "The Way We Make a Broken Heart" seem unnecessary. (MARK COLEMAN/KEITH HARRIS)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide