The questions confronting the Jayhawks in 1996 were as fundamental as they come, chiefly: could the band even continue without their recently departed co-founder Mark Olson, who had sung the majority of the lead vocals up until the point of his departure, well-complemented by fellow singer-songwriter-guitarist Gary Louris.

Once it was established that the rest of the band had every intention of staying together—and who could blame them after 1995’s spectacular Tomorrow The Green Grass, with its exceptional harmonies and strong songwriting—the question remained: with Louris now the band’s sole frontman and principal songwriter, how would the band evolve?

The Jayhawks built a following as a harmony-heavy alt-country quartet descended from Gram Parsons and the Byrds. With the 1992 addition of keyboard player/vocalist Karen Grotberg, the group developed a three-part harmony attack that would endure through most of their still-active career. The change when Olson left consisted mainly of a shift toward greater incorporation of the heavier and at times artsier country-rock and chamber pop favored by Louris.

Sound Of Lies finds Louris backed by the exceptional ensemble of Grotberg, co-founder/bassist Marc Perlman, drummer/harmony vocalist Tim O’Reagan, and new second guitarist Kraig Johnson. The plaintive, country-tinged opening of “The Man Who Loved Life” rapidly swells into an almost tidal, symphonic surge, with the harmony vocals from Grotberg and O’Reagan taking on a distinctly Beatlesque caste. Here and again on “Think About It,” the electric guitar comes to the front of the mix. Olson was the band’s principal acoustic guitarist, and Louris relies more on his rangy, at times distorted electric, supported by Johnson. Toward the end, “Think About It” devolves into a heavy jam with expansive, almost psychedelic soloing.

“Trouble,” a sparkling Perlman/Louris co-write, is where the band reminds you from whence they came. It’s classic Jayhawks, a gently rolling melody, chiming electric guitars, beautiful supporting piano work, verses building to a big, hooky chorus, and throughout, the sinuous intertwining of Louris, Grotberg and O’Reagan’s voices. There is a hypnotic beauty to the way the trio pairs off two at a time before joining together to form a spectacular three-person chorus.

The biting “It’s Up To You” spotlights the harder edge Louris brings to his lyrics, closing with this memorable final chorus: “Stirring a tin cup with a silver spoon / Tell me honey, who is possessing who? / You know, you know it’s up to you.” Then “Stick In The Mud” emphasizes Grotberg’s piano work and angelic harmonies before “Big Star” turns up the guitars again with a big, crunchy rock tune that might or might not be a tribute to the original power-poppers of the same name.

Things get a bit muddy in the third quarter as Louris continues mixing and matching styles. “Poor Little Fish” features a rollicking country-rock rhythm section and piano topped with a dash of psychedelic electric guitar, while the near-train wreck “Sixteen Down” alternates plodding verses with big, discordant choruses. “Haywire” explains itself, another not entirely successful attempt to develop a rather dreamy electric country blues that ends up neither fish nor fowl.

Things pick up again briefly with “Dying On the Vine,” which starts out taut and tense and then explodes with big choral atmospherics and textures that suggest the direction they would go on 2000’s Bob Ezrin-produced Smile. As it goes on, the contrast between the verses and choruses grows as the track builds to a satisfying crescendo.

The album goes out with more of whimper than a bang, though, closing with a pair of rather somber ballads. “Bottomless Cup” is a dusty, gritty, mostly acoustic number composed and sung by O’Reagan, and the closing title track is a melancholy tune that shows off every delicate edge of Louris’ appealingly vulnerable voice.

I sometimes think I may be the only music writer in America who prefers Louris’ edgy chamber-pop experimentalism to Olson’s wistful, traditionalist country-folk, but so be it. For me, Smile will always be one of the high points in the Jayhawks’ catalog, and the best tunes on the same lineup’s opening salvo, the raw, striving Sound Of Lies, aren’t far below it. There are some misfires here, especially in the second half, but the sheer magnificence of the first half of this album makes the whole trip worthwhile.

Rating: B

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