Howe Gelb, 'Sno Angel Like You (Thrill Jockey, 2006)

Howe Gelb, the left-of-center genius behind the alternative desert-rock band Giant Sand, is probably the last musician one would think of in the same context as a gospel choir. But that's exactly what he's paired himself with on his latest release, 'Sno Angel Like You. It's just the sort of unwillingness to color within the lines that has kept Gelb's music fresh and challenging even as he has matured into something of a sage.

'Sno Angel Like You is a soulful collection of songs with Gelb singing and playing guitar, accompanied by the Voices of Praise gospel choir. There are all kinds of reasons why this shouldn't work, and yet it's perhaps one of the best records Gelb has ever made.

Gelb never met a beat he didn't want to sing behind ... way behind. And he doesn't necessarily hew to notes that fall within the recognized chordal structure of a song. And he doesn't always perform what others might recognize as whole songs, but rather sometimes just snippets. So the presence of the choir enforces the structure of the songs, enabling them to hang together in a way that's not always apparent in other contexts.

And, well, it's not always apparent that Gelb is essentially an optimist. His off-kilter sense of humor, penchant for fits of howling, squalling noisefests of distorted guitar and his far-out wordplay often obscure his frequent themes of family and friendship as central values. Here, with a choir backing him up as a call-and-response chorus that underlines his more positive messages, that all shines through.

'Sno Angel is positively heart-warming.

"If you can't afford the fuel, pray you keep the passion / to get the spirit rollin' and get on outta here," he sings in the opener, "Get to Leave," with the choir intoning the title's refrain. "With rumors of a better world, once you get to leave (get to leave)."

Gelb's just a year younger than I am, so I can identify with lines like this, in "Paradise Here Abouts:" "Are you middle aged or maybe older / with a creviced face when the seasons feel colder? / can you ever remember a time when it was easier / to separate the truth from the lies? / Well then welcome to paradise," he sings, as the choir echoes "Par-a-dise, par-a-diiiiise." This one starts off with a tom-tom beat that makes you think you're about to hear Tommy James's "Draggin' the Line," and has lots of sweet slide guitar.

The mostly male voices of the choir insert "But I did not" between every line of Gelb's morality tale of that title. "I felt like burning down the home (but I did not) / felt like buying me a gun (but I did not) / felt like I was all alone (but I did not) / felt like taking it all on the run..." Uplifting is the only word for it.

"Why save that hardship for the older you? / Take it on now upon the younger you / Don't be afraid (don't be afraid) when you feel your courage has been mislaid ... you're here to say (OK), not here to stay / deliver us only this day," he prays in "Hey Man," to the accompaniment of a churchy organ and dobro.

Perhaps best of all is Rainer Ptacek's oblique ballad "The Farm," about drawing strength from hardship with the help of friends and family. "It's like I'm growing radar / receiving messages from outta the plains of, the plains of Kansas," Howe drawls, and then the choir kicks in with "Someone, somewhere, some place, out there!" and the heart soars.

"Love Knows (No Borders)," "Howling a Gale," and more, every track has a moment like that. The guitar squalls are there in places, and many of Gelb's other trademarks. The Arcade Fire's Jeremy Gara provides solid drumming. The 13 tracks include seven new songs, three Giant Sand songs including "Chore of Enchantment," three Ptacek songs and one lovely bluesy guitar instrumental.

If you haven't explored any of Gelb's various incarnations, this would be an excellent introduction. If you're already a fan, prepare to be puzzled at first, and then warmed, and finally blown away. You can learn more about it and buy it online at Giant Sand's Web site or Thrill Jockey's.

[Gary Whitehouse]