Terry Allen

Maybe Allen meant Juarez's overstatement to be funny, but it wasn't, because he wasn't This time he sings like Kinky Friedman with a sense of humor, doing a lot better by his own words than Butch Hancock, the only lyricist in Texas (maybe anywhere) who merits a comparison. From football heroes gone wrong to noble floozies to farmers fiddling while Washington burns, he's a tale-spinning poet of the Panhandle, with local color provided by Joe Ely's homeboys. Like so many double-LPs--though a lot less than most--this could stand some editing. But since that would probably have meant omitting the songs about art, the one subject he knows better than Texas, I'll settle. (Grade: A-)