Social Distortion- Hard Times And Nursery Rhymes 2xLP

Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes builds on singer Mike Ness twin footings, one in the haunted American landscapes of Hank Williams and the other in the raw swagger of Exile era Rolling Stones. While these twin pillars have always been behind Social Distortion's anthemic songs, on Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes they come roaring to the fore, in one of the hardest rocking, most soulful albums of Ness's career. From opener California (Hustle and Flow), in a song with enough attitude to redline a '40 Merc, to the dark rockin' cover of Hank William's Alone and Forsaken longtime fans will find the trademark punk roar they love. New fans, too, will be drawn to Ness' maturing songwriting and vocals. Ness produced Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes (his first time at the production helm) with an eye to his rock and roll legacy, and it's not hard to imagine fans of Springsteen or Petty rocking out to these timeless songs.

• 1 Road Zombie
• 2 California (Hustle and Flow
• 3 Gimme the Sweet and Lowdown
• 4 Diamond in the Rough
• 5 Machine Gun Blues
• 6 Bakersfield
• 7 Far Side of Nowhere
• 8 Alone and Forsaken
• 9 Writing on the Wall
• 10 Can't Take It with You
• 11 Still Alive

When southern California's Social Distortion were getting started, Jimmy Carter occupied the Oval Office and the Sex Pistols were hot news, so merely showing up today would constitute a triumph. But these guys don't wheeze or wobble for a second on their first album since 2004, roaring like pushy kids determined to make a mark. Leader Mike Ness, the only constant over the years, still howls with a raspy, exhilarating fury like Joe Strummer's American cousin, sounding every bit the noble, road-tempered electric troubadour.

Social D's trademark brew of punk, country, and Stonesy blues raunch feels weirdly, surprisingly fresh on Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes. The rousing "California (Hustle and Flow)," a shameless retread of "Tumbling Dice" complete with gospel-chick backing singers, casts Ness in the survivor's role, recalling when he "went too fast with the rhythm and booze" as he ponders the similar excesses of a younger generation, a theme revisited elsewhere. And while the torrid "Machine Gun Blues" overdoses on 1930s gangster clichés, the obvious pleasure Ness takes in his tough-guy performance is hard to resist.

Quibblers may complain that the sound is too clean, possibly a symptom of obsessive, endless remixing, and wish for more rough edges. Regardless, Ness has reaffirmed his relevance with a vengeance. If he chooses to get sloppier next time around, so much the better.

Jon Young (Spin)