He plunders our spirits of apathy and listlessness, and we feel emboldened.

He rips tears from our eyes, tortures our hearts, and shatters our illusions and we're thankful.

He populates our world with vagabonds, thieves, murderers and addicts and we're invigorated.

His fierce, beautiful words convey no easy assurances, no hollow truths, no perky platitudes and we're relieved.

In times such as these, when so many have so little to say, Steve Earle still knocks us dead, flooding our souls and sensibilities with intoxicating images and unconstrained emotions.

He irreverently dismisses his romantic ballads as "chick" songs yet unveils perfectly the hapless, disconsolate lover in "Valentine's Day" or the pleasures and relentless insecurities of romantic love in compositions such as" I Don't Want to Lose You Yet."

An avid student of history, Earle defends the U.S. constitution fiercely, yet in songs such as "Christmas in Washington," derides "politics as usual" and implores us to question, to be heard, to nuture the real American dream.

At a recent acoustic concert in Boulder, Colorado, silence spoke loudest of all. No furtive conversations, restless wanderings or drunken boorishness permeated the room. We had come to listen and we paid our respects.

Earle can easily toss out light-hearted quips about youthful indiscretions, money, ex-wives and middle-aged eyes then sear our spirits with the wretched loneliness of "My Old Friend the Blues."

He rendered tribute to East Texas bluesmen, mentor and friend Townes Van Zandt and the late, legendary Nashville songwriter, Harlan Howard. He laid bare harrowing times and addictions in "South Nashville Blues" and "Cocaine Cannot Kill My Pain," following the former with the latter lest we believe the life described appear more enjoyable than it was.

As always, when Earle, a man of the people, speaks to the people, we listen. He's a hard-wired straight-shooter who is fearless in tackling the issues of the day. He crusades tirelessly against the death penalty yet acknowledges that most people probably disagree with him. Like-minded or not, we can still moved by his stark rendition of gut-wrenchers like "Ellis Unit One."

Earle alluded to 9-11, noting that his next album wouldn't have as many romantic ballads because there was too much going on in the world. His cautioned us regarding abuses of power and abbrogations of freedoms in these tumultuous times. Ultimately, whether he lit our inner fuses with his focused rhetoric is uncertain. What is unquestioned, however, is that he repeatedly reaffirms for us that music, contrary to current trends, can still be substantive, absorbing and emotionally engaging on multiple levels. Yes, we whisper hopefully to ourselves the music still matters.

We slip out of his shows disquieted, discomforted, enervated yet inspired. As we face the night and the coming days, we resolve to "be like Steve," to care a little more, to find a passion within ourselves, to do the right thing regardless of consequences.

Inevitably, we falter as the world, once again, gets in our way. We compromise, lose our resolve, and begin to circle, circle, circle, looking again for...something. Needing to escape to, or from, something. We glance about.

Ah...praise the Lord and pass the CD!

Maybe we can't really "be like Steve." We can, however, find solace in his words. Tap some redemption, absolution, purposefulness, kinship.

And thus armed, live to face another day.

Steve Earle at the Riviera (Chicago) New Year's Eve 1999
Steve Earle at the Texas Uprising
Steve Earle Photo Album

Mountain West Music 2002