Sheryl Crow - Detours

On her seventh studio album, Sheryl Crow pulls out all the stops, boldly going in a direction so many pop artists seem timid about pursuing: songs that blatantly address the times in which we live, indistinguishing the gulf between the personal and the political.

The Political

Sheryl Crow may be best known for writing catchy pop tunes that call to mind something vaguely rootsy, but her latest album is decidedly folkier, which, it turns out, is a very strong direction for her. The whole thing kicks off with "God Bless This Mess," a heartfelt remembrance of the events leading up to the Iraq War, and all that’s come since. She sings with a cracking voice about soldiers coming home riddled with Post-Traumatic Stress, capping each verse with the refrain repetition of "God bless this mess."

Then, in contrast, comes "Shine Over Babylon," the album's first single. Here, Crow's voice echoes out with much more fierce determination. It's the most Dylanesque moment on the album, as she tries to fit everything into one moment of overwhelming revelation. From "great highways" to the "waning sun," "mindless filler" and "the bloated bank account."

The Pop Music

There are a fair share of catchy pop choruses here, as well. The second single, "Love is Free," has a positively infectious rhythm and chorus, albeit hugely topical lyrics that pay tribute to New Orleans. "Gasoline" (Download MP3) paints the picture of a future when we don’t have to pay for gas that pollutes the planet, but the hook, "gasoline will be free," is plenty radio friendly.

"Out of Our Heads" (Download MP3) is one of the strongest tracks on the disc. It's a fierce, powerful sing-along protest song with wordy, provocative verses and brief, unforgettable choruses. Crow seems to have tapped into that rare mystical place where the political is personal, the disgrace gives way to celebration and community. It's a sharp moment, and one of the brightest among so many bright moments.

The Personal

There are also several non-topical personal songs, like "Now That You’re Gone," "Lullaby For Wyatt," "Drunk With the Thought of You." Although there's such a strong political and topical bent to the disc, these more personal songs hardly stick out as inappropriate filler. They're hugely personal, like the scathing "Diamond Ring." "Diamond ring," she sings, "f***s up everything / Diamond ring should not mean a thing." Despite the intense personal nature of these songs, they're moving, well-arranged tunes peppered with subtle details that serve only to elevate them to a place where personal struggles give way to an ability to better see the world.

This is most clear on the title track. It's written in the form of a letter to her mother, and it ties the disc together nicely. Its theme, like that of the rest of the disc, shows the converging paths that come from so many that diverge. Specifically—interconnectivity, the sameness between intimate love and love for the world. It's Crow's greatest asset on this disc, the thing that makes it one of the best crafted discs so far this year.