When Bill Monroe dropped his guitar for the mandolin over sixty years ago, he accomplished something no other American musician can claim-- he single- handedly created a genre of music. As a tribute to the near perfection of his creation, the bluegrass played today by skilled craftsmen across the country is virtually unchanged from its inception, and its high and lonesome sound is enjoyed by audiences from Pennsylvania to Oregon. Conversely, during bluegrass' lifetime, rock n' roll has been born, died and transformed a myriad of times. No wonder Steve Earle sees The Mountain, his collaboration with the Del McCoury Band and tribute to Monroe, as his shot at immortality.

Earle has dabbled with bluegrass occasionally since his release from the pokey five years ago. 1995's Train a Comin' is a collection of rock and country songs parading in bluegrass costumes, and one of the highlights of 1997's El Corazon is the splendid "I Still Carry You Around." Still, the strict tenets and instrumentation of bluegrass are a strange choice for a corpulent artist who's built his even larger reputation on his ability to change genres as easily as the rest of us change our pants. However, a bastardization of an age- old campaign slogan becomes readily apparent after the album's first few tracks-- it's the songwriting, stupid.

Earle, unlike the guy who originally spoke those immortal words, delivers on his promise. The Mountain is a beautifully crafted piece of work. The strictly traditional tracks are truly pleasing, but Earle again manages to bring his unique depth to the proceedings. "Leroy's Dustbowl Blues," an obvious nod to Woody Guthrie, actually has Earle sounding more like Woody's most famous disciple, Bob Dylan, and he once again showcases his penchant for breathtaking closers with "Pilgrim." In a sparkling sky, the album's shining star is "Dixieland," in which Earle figuratively traces the musical anthropology of bluegrass from Irish folk to the Appalachians through the tale of an Irish immigrant conscripted to fight in the Civil War. He even manages to affect an Irish accent that eventually deteriorates into his familiar Texas twang by the song's end.

Praise for the songwriting having been offered, Earle's crowning achievement here is the enlistment of the Del McCoury Band. Del actually played with Bill Monroe and his band (consisting primarily of his sons) is the premiere bluegrass outfit in the country. Their mandolin, fiddle and banjo fills drive the affair and provide a background for Earle's nasal drawl as lush as any of the guitar rockers that pepper his usual offerings.

Earle hopes that The Mountain will deliver at least one bluegrass standard that survives at festivals long after his death. Chances are, Earle will more likely be remembered and exhumed for his country rock inklings, much like Gram Parsons is deified today. But chances are also good that some young rocker down the road, intrigued by Earle's other work, will pick up The Mountain. And perhaps that youngster will then pick up a mandolin-- a fitting tribute to Bill Monroe, indeed.

-Neil Lieberman