"Don't forget your roots." If Mike Ness had any non- inked space still available on his body, he might have the motto tattooed there. A reverential grasp of his musical ancestry is deep at the core of his first post- Social Distortion release, a collection both familiar and surprising coming from this legendary punk rock cowboy.

As the album's title suggests, Ness is still grappling with the same themes. With his trusty axe as his transportation, this lone ranger rides along a desolate road, commenting on all that he sees around him: loneliness, heartache, betrayal, the self- destructive vices of man. None of this seems out of place when we realize these sentiments are attributable to the same guy who penned similar tales of woe with the likes of "Bad Luck," "No Pain, No Gain," and "Cold Feelings."

But as is made clearly apparent within the first few seconds of the album, Ness' choice of vehicle has changed. No longer content to merely blaze past the ever- present fixtures of pain all around, this mythical man has decided to meander at a more thoughtful (and sometimes more painful) pace. Taking time to dig past the surface, to really get to the heart of the thing, Ness employs slower tempos and more decorative atmospherics.

Here we sense the winds of inspiration that must have first awakened the songwriting genius within. The liner notes identify "the Stones, Johnny Cash, Creedence and yes, even '70s glitter" as Ness' first influences. Rockabilly was always a tangible aspect of Social D's sound, but in this forum, its whiskey- infused muscles get a chance to flex. Slide guitars slither throughout the countrified background while the man in the forefront spits his venom with uncharacteristic restraint. His words snarl in their anger, but are often delivered in something much more like a whisper. Every so often the hurt becomes too much to gracefully bear, and barks of fury demand to be heard.

Whether Ness is playing a number by Bob Dylan, Hank Williams, or one of his own, there's a consistency that demonstrates his spiritual partnership with the moods and motions of the genre masters. The legitimacy of his new crusade is all the more strengthened by appearances from other musical greats. Bruce Springsteen offers an passionately loaded verse to "Misery Loves Company" and Brian Setzer lends the reverb- drenched, tremolo- busy services of his Gretch guitar to "Crime Don't Pay."

Although the ultra- cool frontman may admittedly be leading a "charmed life," his music exposes the demons he constantly struggles with nonetheless. A man who has sung the song of alienation for two decades, it seems especially fitting that he's now pursuing a solo career. Based upon the impressive efforts of Cheating at Solitaire, he's likely to have a lot of company along the way.

-Kevin Ruggeri