Journeyman. Craftsman. Beautiful Loser. Formalist. All of these

callings

are difficult to hear on the fly. Sure, their practitioners can

blindside you now and then with a zinger that teaches a damned

old dog

new, catchy tricks. But, especially in a context that demands closer

attention (say, over the length of an album or, ugh, a career), the

songs often get as blandly predictable as an episode of "Home

Improvement."

Dave Pirner has been called one and all of the above by those for

whom

Zen Arcade is Robert Johnson: The Complete

Recordings in

an attempt to come to terms with their continuing pleasure with

Soul

Asylum's continuing inability to take a new direction. His career in

song traces the same depressive, therapy-thirsty steps from

hardcore

anger to grunge angst that Dinosaur Jr./Sebadoh have traversed

with a

jaded, uncertain single-mindedness that borders on obsession.

Those

obsessions finally paid off when they meshed with a jaded,

uncertain pop

moment, but it grew wearisome to keep hoping that Pirner would

eventually shake them and become preoccupied with something

else.

Let Your Dim Light Shine (1995) was the first time Pirner let

some new light shine in. The songs were his catchiest; the one-

liners

were his cleverest ("tried to get ahead but only got decapitated");

the

narratives told stories for telling's sake and were as deftly

constructed as a ... well, it's not for nothing that they called one

song "String of Pearls." But most importantly, several songs

showcased

pronouns in the third person (most notably, "she"), fixing the

spotlight

on the fact that not only were there other people in the world, but

that

they could be as jaded and uncertain as the auteur himself. Maybe

even

more.

Now, there was no particular reason why this development had to

occur at

that particular moment in Pirner's career. Indeed, Candy From

A

Stranger sadly makes it clear that his having finally seen the

light

was more than likely a fluke. And now we're faced with 11 more

acely-crafted tunes that leave you wondering why, after almost 15

years,

has this man not gotten over this strange relationship or that

goddamn

job.

Let's talk about "No Time For Waiting" in this respect. The song

vaguely

recalls Sweet's "Fox on the Run" the way "Bittersweetheart"

vaguely

recalled "Summertime Blues" last time out; that is, they palm off of

milestones sexier and sunnier than Soul Asylum can probably

ever write

themselves. The same great snare-drum pomp counts out every

beat. It

even has some of that faux-prog synth action happening. A fine

song.

Unquestionably.

But, jeez, wouldn't you rather listen to "Fox on the Run," especially

when confronted with Pirner's latest crybabyisms? He whines

about the

same "no way out" situations ("it's enough to make you stay, it's

enough

to make you go away") and the same "nobody-understands-me"

lots in life

("you don't understand

how I'm feeling," ugh!). And the song as a whole fits too nicely into

the album's theme of time wasting away. He could have at least

sung the

chorus ("There's n-no time for waiting") the way Sweet sang "F-

Foxy!"

Then again, the comparison is probably unfair since Sweet were

the

greatest group of all time.

I don't want to overstate my disappointment with this album. I like it

fine. Pirner remains an above-average songwriter and his voice is

gaining more and more shades of emotion. There's really not a

bad song

in the bunch. I even had "Draggin' The Lake" in my head during a

waking

sleep a few nights ago. And the longest song is 4:45, with the

album

finishing out a hair over 45 minutes. So long-windedness is not

Pirner's

problem.

But the promise held forth on Let Your Dim Light Shine

seems to

have prematurely diminished. It's evident that the attraction of

country

music for Pirner lies in its pathos and not in its amazing sense of

narrative detail and concision, or even its pinched, white soul. And

he

could stand a heaping helpful of the latter two. He needs to tell

more

stories (they can even be about him, as long as it tells a story). He

needs to stop relegating covers to crappy EPs and place some on

an album

for a change of pace. Ditto for stridently political songs like "P-9."

He's one of the more generous rockers out there.Why can't he get

generous with his full-length releases and air out that

homesick psyche once in a while?

Maybe we have to wait 'til next album, since he admits here that

he's

"Close" to peace of mind. In the meantime, there's still "The

Game." For

four and a half minutes, he lets his Husker Du down and recounts

a

jealous tug-of-war with a best friend's wife. It's the only track that

kept jumping out at me when I listened to it five times in a row

while

searching for cheap sex on AOL. Ten more of those and he'll

never be

hard to hear again.