If you've heard of Mare Winningham, chances are it's because you've

seen her in movies such as "Wyatt Earp" or "Georgia" (with Jennifer

Jason Leigh).

Although she's made other records, Lonesomers is her first on a

label that isn't doomed. After seeing her in "Georgia" (in which she

sang and played guitar), Razor & Tie -- home also of Dar Williams

and the Nields -- picked her up. Similar to albums by these

labelmates, Lonesomers is a lightly sketched, deeply felt

collection. Winningham's work is lyrical, playful and sad -- a friendly

mixture of folk and pop with an occasional country flourish.

The album opens with "Miles," a song that draws the usual parallels

between road trips and relationships. "It's a longer way we're taking

home/There's a cloudless day, then there's a storm/But I never say

that we are lost." Then there's a down-home rendition of the Rolling

Stones' "The Last Time" with a barroom diva's throaty wail and

plenty of boogie-woogie piano. In "Are You Smiling?" she pays

tribute to Joni Mitchell with chiming acoustic guitar and a story

about two lovers travelling together by motorcycle across California.

But Winningham does best with ballads. In "Silver Bullets" she sings

about the age-old struggle between love of adventure and

attachment to domestic comfort. "The sun descends in streams of

gold in the Valley of the Moon/My ass is in the same seat from the

autumn until the beginning of June/Except when silver bullets fly

and spirit me away." "Quietly Tonight" marries Winningham's pretty

voice with acoustic and electric guitars. The slide-work and religious

allusions in this song would make it at home on country stations. On

"Lonesomers" people get together to be alone. "I'm dying for the

solitude/Can I take the test?/I better learn to be alone/If I'm ever

going to learn to rest."

Then there's "Wake Up," a bouncy tune that deals with the

temptation to hide one's mistakes and to sleep through the bad parts

of life. At other times Winningham's peppy side can be downright

annoying, as on "World That I Love," which sounds like something

from the "Partridge Family."

Overall, though, this album has the sound of a backyard jam or a

kitchen-table-recording -- familiar in a mostly good way, imperfect,

and yet companionable.