Archer Prewitt's years of Chicago indie rock experience have treated him well. Back in the Early Hi-Ball Years of 1992, he was merely the frontman for the esteemed Coctails. And while making a handful of revered albums with that band, he also did time fronting the Sea and Cake, turning out three more excellent albums, albeit in a decidedly more "post-rock" vein. He also helped turn Sam Prekop's excellent self- titled debut into a better piece of music, adding his nimble- fingered guitar work to Prekop's subtle magic. Next thing you know, the guy's on his second solo album, headed down a path of continued greatness and recording some of the most impressive orchestral pop this side of awesome.

Admittedly, after hearing Prewitt's first solo record, 1997's In the Sun, I was expecting something along the same lines. And I got it. But where In the Sun occasionally tossed up some poppier, more rhythm- based stuff (the catchy- assed hook of "Good Man," the post-funk of "Rush Hour," and the head- bobbing "Work"), White Sky is a bit more mellow and autumnal. Even though the record starts with the joyous "Raise On High," it stands as White Sky's most upbeat track.

White Sky may be the most meloncholy and beautifully orchestrated album of Prewitt's career so far. The string section's powerful presence is one of the album's greatest assets, but more stunning is the way these pieces fit together, giving the life of stereo surround to compositions that draw inspiration from 1970s AM radio. And Prewitt must be pretty good behind the board, too, because his production work on White Sky ranks up there with Chicago's elite, Jim O'Rourke and John McEntire. In the Sun was packed with great melodies, but Prewitt was clearly less experienced at adding depth. White Sky finds Prewitt more than capable of incorporating open space and perfecting arrangements.

But, as with any great album, it's the songs that make White Sky truly compelling. "Shake" encapsulates the unwelcome handshake of the late Autumn flu; the eight- minute "Walking On the Farm" begins with a sparse bassline and minimal drumbeat with occasional, brief flourishes of harmonica and electric piano before blossoming into a majestic, full- blown sadness; the gentle, hummable pop of "Final Season" will stick in your head like eyes; and the record's closer, "I'll Be Waiting," highlights Prewitt's inescapable pop perfection with understated acoustic guitar and the sweet backing vocals of Edith Frost.

Simply put, Archer Prewitt is like Nick Drake with a backbone. And if his music is praised by the future Michael Stipes of this world, he can plan on becoming the next super- cool indie rock folk hero 20 years down the line. In the meantime, he's one of Chicago's finest pop stars, and thankfully, incredibly prolific.

-Ryan Schreiber