Categorically speaking, there are only two kinds of bastards in this cruel world: an illegitimate child and a mean sonofabitch. I'm sleeping with the older sister of my best friend, so I fit nicely into the latter category. Hester Prynne's daughter, Pearl, is the former kind of bastard, as are thousands of children born of reckless, horny rock stars. Like Liv Tyler, for instance.

San Diego's the Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash, however, fit neither category. Surprisingly, they ain't hardly mean at all, which is too bad, and the only connection they have with Johnny Cash, besides their name-- which he endorsed, by the way-- is that they play country music. Not alt-country. Not folk-country. Not Mexi-country. Nope-- these four bastards are just plain country musicians.

"Plain" is the operative word here, because nothing on Walk Alone is nearly as rebellious as one would expect from a band with such a name and a whiskey bottle on the cover. The Bastards jump between straightforward honky-tonk, pedal steel ballads and country-rock. These aren't very huge leaps. And Mark Stuart sings, in a common country voice, about the things you'd expect: love, booze and traveling, traveling, traveling.

The obvious signposts for the Bastards are Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and, naturally, the band's namesake. But Walk Alone is undoubtedly "modern country," although it's ten times better than the modern country you hear on the radio. What makes it better? The songs aren't overproduced, and the lyrics, while cliché, aren't painfully so. Also, the musicians are obviously talented, yet keen on restraint. In short, this is music for Dwight Yoakam fans looking to expand their collection.

So what you get are songs like "Texas Sun," the millionth song to use "I Walk the Line" as a blueprint. And then "Blade," which is number 1,000,001. With "Seven Steps," though, the Bastards fan out their sound, using the pedal steel and Telecaster to tropical effect. The rollickin' "Trains Gonna Roll" is unabashed fun, while "Memphis Woman" is a subtly textured love story. And "440 Horses" is probably the best Bastard-penned song on the album, if only because it transcends cliché and mediocrity to become a modern country song that's actually worth hearing again. If this played on the radio instead of Faith Hill or Shania Twain, the world would be a much better place.

I said "Bastard-penned" because they also provide a couple covers. One is an update of Dale Watson's "Truckstop in La Grange" that, while perhaps a bit too clean, offers some strong guitarwork, including a tactful solo. The other cover is of "Silver Wings," by Merle Haggard (for whom the Bastards were an opening act in '99). With its vivid lyrics of flight, the songs remains classic even if Haggard doesn't make the guest appearance I'd hoped for.

But the two covers are, for obvious reasons, the best tracks on Walk Alone, thus drawing greater attention to the Bastards' own decent, but unoriginal songs. Paying homage is respectable, but perhaps they'd do best to move out of the shadow of country legends and try something that's innovative but still decidedly country. After all, every genre needs artists to come along and, er, bastardize it now and then.

-Ryan Kearney