Before you play "a blazing Grace" in the car, it would be prudent to check for cops. The album-opening "Cry by Night Operator" practically demands to be pumped at a level beyond decibel restrictions. By the time you reach the triumphant thrashing of John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads" – an unlikely but inspired match – you'll find yourself driving at least 30 mph faster.

From the start, limits of speed and volume meant little to Jason and the Scorchers, and the band's first album of the '90s finds the Scorchers not merely reunited but recharged, firing away with an urgency that renews their earliest passion. As always, the key to the Scorchers remains the tension between the country courtliness of Jason Ringenberg and the wildman guitar of Warner Hodges, who sounds like a supersonic cross between James Burton and AC/DC's Angus Young (although the dynamics of his solo in the apocalyptic climax of "Hell's Gates" show just how much method there is in his musical madness). Powering the roadhouse raucousness is the rhythm section of bassist Jeff Johnson and drummer Perry Baggs, who slam away with the slapdash recklessness of the New York Dolls.

As relentless as the up-tempo material may be, the balladry of "Where Bridges Never Burn" and "Somewhere Within" is equally searing, showing the sort of growth that makes this older-and-wiser reunion something more than a blast from the past. An undercurrent of romantic dissolution runs through the album, extending to the soulwrenching "Shadow of Night" and a feverish cover of George Jones' "Why Baby Why," making lighter fare such as "200 Proof Lovin'" and "One More Day of Weekend" seem like a change-of-pace respite.

Much has been made of how the contemporary generation of country artists was raised on rock, but too often the results sound like Loggins and Messina in boots and Stetsons, a dilution of the best of both styles. By contrast, the Scorchers are the real deal, the spontaneous combustion of country roots and rock & roll fervor. (RS 703)

DON MCLEESE