A legend in his own mind, country artist David Allan Coe is a shameless self-promoter whose propensity for name-dropping is as much a trademark as his tattoos and long-haired redneck rebel image. And almost in spite of it all, he also happens to be a genuinely gifted songwriter, albeit a frustratingly inconsistent one. The Ohio-born Coe emerged on the Nashville scene in the early '70s, calling himself the Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy and boasting he had served nearly two decades in prison, including a stint on death row for murder. As it turned out, he had served time -- primarily in various juvenile reformatories -- but the murder rap turned out to be a product of Coe's imagination. Undaunted by this revelation, Coe maintained a rough and rugged public persona and promptly aligned himself with the outlaw movement, scoring an early hit as a songwriter with Tanya Tucker's cover of his "Would You Lay With Me (In a Field of Stone)." The song's success helped land him a Columbia deal (following his long-out-of-print 1969 Plantation debut, Penitentiary Blues, and the followup, Requiem for a Harlequin), and both The Mysterious Rhinestone Cowboy and Once Upon a Rhyme (which features his own version of the Tucker hit) were highly enjoyable showcases for Coe's rich, Merle Haggard-like voice, strong originals, and great taste in covers; Steve Goodman's "You Never Even Called Me by My Name," from Once Upon a Rhyme, would become Coe's signature anthem. Both albums -- now compiled as part of Germany's Bear Family Records' reissue series of Coe twofers -- stand as exemplary examples of mid-'70s country at its best. After that, his recordings have been considerably less consistent, reeling from the rock-solid, bare-knuckled, blue-collar bravura of "If That Ain't Country" (from Rides Again) and "Take This Job and Shove It" (Tattoo) to the obnoxious, full-blown self-mythologizing of "Willie, Waylon and Me" (Rides Again) and the title track of Longhaired Redneck, in which the only name he drops heavier than Johnny Cash's and Merle Haggard's is his own. The redneck shtick hit its nadir with a pair of late-'70s/early-'80s independent "X-rated" albums Coe peddled through a biker magazine; songs like "Little Suzie Shallow Throat" and "Nigger Fucker" earned him a rep as a sexist racist which still dogs him, though he has since denounced the records (both out of print). The superslick Billy Sherrill-produced albums of the same period -- Human Emotions, Invictus Means Unconquered, and Castles in the Sand -- were another matter entirely. Although Coe turned out an above-average song here and there, this is more Urban Cowboy fare than outlaw, as safe as milk even when Coe likens himself to Bob Dylan ("Castles in the Sand"). Grab the Rhinestone Cowboy/Once Upon a Rhyme disc if you can find it, or stick with the solid For the Record: The First 10 Years anthology. By the beginning of the '90s, Coe was bankrupt and eking out a living by constant touring. A brief return to the majors (Sony's Lucky Dog) yielded 1997's Live: If That Ain't Country . . . , a satisfyingly rowdy affair bolstered by lead-guitar work from Allman Brothers/Gov't Mule axeman Warren Haynes, and Recommended for Airplay, an exceptional studio al-bum showcasing some of Coe's best originals since the early '70s -- and a sense of humor, to boot. The refreshing "Song for the Year 2000," with its "it takes all kinds of people to make the world go round" hook, seemed a sincere and heartfelt (but not sappy) apology for some of his more offensive slurs in the past, while "A Harley Someday" poked gentle fun at a wanna-be "weekend warrior" biker before concluding, "We all started out just like that." The even stronger Songwriter of the Tear skips the humor and goes right for the heart, with devastating results. In the span of 11 mostly terrific new originals, Coe proves that a world-class songwriter still lurks deep underneath all the layers of buffoonish self-parody. Unfortunately, he's still a risky gamble. The two most recent live albums -- both featuring a handful of clunkers cowritten with Coe fan (natch) Kid Rock -- are warts-and-all affairs, though Live at Billy Bob's sounds a lot better and features another outstanding new original in "Heaven Only Knows." The TeeVee and King compilations are uniformly awful, featuring either inferior new recordings of his best-known songs or pointless "tributes" to his heroes -- er, close, personal friends -- like Haggard and Cash. (DAVID MCGEE/RICHARD SKANSE) From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide

Listen to 'Penitentiary Blues':



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