Willie Nelson

Cynics say he’s “pulled a Santana” by collaborating with Matchbox Twenty’s Rob Thomas and a host of other greenhorn superstars—Kid Rock, Sheryl Crow, and Lee Ann Womack among them—on his latest album, The Great Divide. But you can’t accuse Willie Nelson of selling out, because his plainspoken country-folk has lost none of its substance in his decades as an eclectic master of the singer-songwriter mode. The new stuff is less twangy and lots more radio-ready than 1998’s captivating Teatro, or even the best of his outlaw heyday, but if re-entering the pop charts after a long, awkward hiatus is such a crime, then that Bono guy should have been deported months ago. Live, Nelson is no more prone to stage dives or explosive outbursts than he is to getting a crewcut, and that’s as it should be. Even when he’s indulging a jones for drippy romance on the Thomas-penned “Maria (Shut Up and Kiss Me),” or dusting off a nugget like “Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Was In),” he’s the kind of sturdy, soulful, instantly engaging cowboy poet that more jukeboxes could use. Nobody needs a “comeback” less than this handsome stranger, and though his output shows no signs of slowing, it’s a good idea to catch him while you can.