Lucinda Williams, World Without Tears

Lucinda Williams is a stubborn lady, which has been both a blessing and a curse. She’s refused to compromise her genre-crossing, rough-edged songwriting, but it’s not easy to get ahead in country music when your influences also include Delta blues and electric-era Dylan. She’s too raw and electric for country radio and too twangy for rock airplay, sort of like the Osmonds except that in her case that meant nearly 20 years of bouncing from label to label trying to get her music released. Things have gotten a little easier since 1998’s Car Wheels on a Gravel Road hit it big, protecting her integrity with the music industry’s best armor, album sales. World will be her third album in four years, and while it doesn’t surpass Car Wheels, it does stand proudly beside it. The best songs here are smartly written, fiercely emotional and richly varied in mood. The slow croon of “Fruits of My Labor” segues into the swaggeringly sexy Stones-y crunch of “Righteously.” “Minneapolis,” a melancholy, bitter ballad about a shattered relationship, packs a punch but won’t exactly boost tourism here, thanks to lyrics like “a dozen dead roses are all that’s left in Minneapolis.” (Hey Lu, we’ve got great cross-country skiing! A vibrant theater community! Paul Magers! Give us another chance!)