and Nashville had had just about enough of one another once it came time for him to cut his third album in 1988. 's first two albums, and , had sold well and earned enthusiastic reviews, but his stubborn refusal to make nice, his desire to make more -influenced albums, and the faint but clear Leftism in his populist lyrical stance made him no friends at 's Nashville offices, and his growing dependence on heroin didn't help matters one bit. was moved to 's Los Angeles-based imprint, and he headed to Memphis to cut his third album, . The result improbably became one of 's strongest albums; between its big drum sound, arena-sized guitars, and a swagger that owed more to than 's New Traditionalists, was the unabashed album had long threatened to make, but his attitude and personality were strong enough to handle the oversized production, and the songs showed that for all the aural firepower, this was still the same down-home troublemaker from 's first two albums. The moonshiner's tale of the title cut, the gunfighter's saga of and the story of two generations of soldiers in (with sitting in as 's backing band) were all tough but compelling narratives rooted in tradition, and their moves updated them without robbing them of their power. And if the songs about love that dominate the album's second half don't have the same immediate impact, are honest and absorbing reflections of the heart of this dysfunctional romantic. 's production, which occasionally borders on territory, dates it, but the fire of 's performances and the strength of the songs more than compensates, and this album still connects 20 years on: if he had been able to hold himself together and make a few more records this strong, it's hard to imagine how big a star he could have become. ~ Mark Deming