‘AMERICAN CLASSIC’ (Blue Note)

Willie Nelson

A little more than 30 years ago Willie Nelson released “Stardust,” an album of standards largely culled from what’s now identified as the Great American Songbook. Produced by Booker T. Jones, it was a spare and mellow meditation and a casual stroke of genius. Nelson, backed by regular partners, yielded no part of himself to the material, showing a plain and honest respect. He made the songs sound prized but approachable, broken-in.

“American Classic,” Nelson’s new album, follows the lineage of “Stardust” in one sense, with a menu of songbook fare. But in another sense it feels like a capitulation. Its sound is lustrous, its personnel impeccable. What’s missing is the sense of conviction that Nelson brings to his strongest work. Having long ago proved that the songbook was open to all manner of interpretation, he appears here in formal attire as the latest agent of a long-term trend: the standardization of the American standard.

Of course, a strict sequel to “Stardust” — his most successful album, with more than 5 million copies sold — would have been pure folly. But it’s alarmingly easy to picture many of the songs on “American Classic” without Nelson, and with someone else in his place. The album’s producer, Tommy LiPuma, has worked closely with Diana Krall throughout her major-label career, and if you have some idea of the sound of her recordings, you know the velvet cushion supporting Nelson here. Rod Stewart should have been so lucky.

What redeems much of “American Classic” is the singularity of Nelson’s voice, along with the deceptive shrewdness of his singing. His tone on “The Nearness of You,” which opens the album with a gloss of strings, adds a dash of bitters to an otherwise cloying cocktail. On “Come Rain or Come Shine” and “I Miss You So,” both set at a lope, his phrasing feels conversational but also subtly dramatic. On “Always on My Mind,” which closes the album pointedly — one of Nelson’s best-loved songs, it’s now a standard too — he leans ahead of the beat and lags behind it, giving the lyrics a spontaneous air.

And it’s instructive to hear Nelson alongside a pair of younger duet partners, even if their presence is a mild distraction. Krall, joining him on “If I Had You,” fails to find the tricky current that he’s riding, and the result feels forced. Norah Jones, on the other hand, meets him all the way on “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” The crackle of their chemistry overrides the triteness of the song choice — underscoring just how much vitality Nelson still brings to the table, if only given the chance.

— Nate Chinen

‘EMERGENCE’ (Groovin’ High/Emarcy)

Roy Hargrove Big Band

The trumpeter Roy Hargrove has led a big band intermittently since the mid-1990s, with a crisp, old-fashioned rigor. His vision for a 19-piece ensemble has everything to do with tradition, lineage, legacy; he isn’t out to reinvent the wheel. “Emergence,” his first big-band album, puts a bright gloss on a spruce ambition, with a high degree of musicianship and a lot of solicitous charm.

One way to look at a big band is as a backdrop, and there are moments here when Hargrove finds deluxe accommodation as a soloist. “Velera,” the original ballad that opens the album, serves this purpose, as does a version of the Rodgers and Hart staple “My Funny Valentine.” At times the band accompanies a vocalist: either Roberta Gambarini or Hargrove himself, genially getting by on “September in the Rain.”

But those moments coexist with other, more demanding exercises. “Roy Allan” is an enlargement of a small-group tune from Hargrove’s past, and the punch of its brassy accents is worth the investment. “Ms. Garvey, Ms. Garvey,” by Jason Marshall, takes advantage of the irresistible thrust of a good, mean shuffle.

The album’s two highlights arrive side by side: “Mambo for Roy,” composed and arranged by Chucho Valdes, and “Requiem,” composed and arranged by Frank Lacy. Both sound bracingly immediate, and both equally flatter Hargrove and the band.

— Nate Chinen

‘WORLD WIDE OPEN’ (Carolwood)

Love and Theft

Long before it had a hit single, Love and Theft was under harsh klieg lights: one of its members, Stephen Barker Liles, was the subject of a mash-note song, “Hey Stephen,” on Taylor Swift’s last album, “Fearless.” Few are more articulate or more direct about their feelings than Swift, which has made the magnifying glass on Love and Theft’s debut album, “World Wide Open,” even more intense: What does she see in him anyway?

The next logical step in country-friendly pop, perhaps. Love and Theft — Liles, Brian Bandas and Eric Gunderson — is in effect a country boy band, airy and sweet. “World Wide Open” is charmingly uncomplicated, a promising album from a band making the most of limited resources.

“Runaway,” perfectly harmonized and lyrically underfed, has flickers of Bon Jovi or an even-more-harmless .38 Special. (And if it happens to echo “Leave the Pieces,” the breakout 2006 hit by the Wreckers, so much the better.) With its yelping melody and optimistic swells of guitars, “You to Miss” wouldn’t have sounded out of place on the recent “Hannah Montana: The Movie” soundtrack. And “Dancing in Circles” is anxiety-free Southern gospel, a praise song that never exhales too deeply.

Edgeless and verging on naive, Love and Theft has only youth in common with Swift. When the three young men, who trade off lead vocals (though with only nominal effect), attempt a mature lyric — say, throwaway mentions of cigarettes and Spanish wine — they fumble. They’re least convincing on “Freedom,” a sneer written with the Warren Brothers: “This $3 coffee, it sure tastes like hell/But I don’t have to answer to anyone else.”

It’s unclear if there’s an answer to Swift’s overture buried on this album. It could be the blithe (though tepid) love song “Don’t Wake Me.” Or maybe it’s “Slow Down,” a stirring soft-rock ballad OneRepublic would be grateful to have. “All I know is I can’t go/as fast you have got me spinning around,” the band harmonizes at the refrain. “I’m barely hanging on/Slow down.”

— Jon Caramanica

c.2009 New York Times News Service