Regardless of what you might feel about his music, Lyle Lovett is an interesting character.

First, there's his unusual singular appearance. A tall, lanky Texan with big ears, an overlong Roman nose, and a thin extensive line of a mouth that is slightly askew, his comical-but-cool eraserhead haircut — practically a trademark — is his crowning touch. He is simultaneously homely and attractive. And, as was recently pointed out in a lengthy New Yorker profile, he possesses the quality of a Depression-era Dorothea Lange portrait. Were he to run for political office, Lovett would be manna from heaven for the caricature artists.

Then there's his personality. He is a mild-mannered man who speaks softly and with ease. He often makes self-deprecating jokes. When I asked him if he considers himself a country singer, he replied, "No. I barely consider myself a singer." When I asked what's his favorite song on his new record, without hesitation he said "Election Day," a swinging Blaze Foley cover and the only tune on the record not written by Lovett.

Lovett's voice is almost pretty in its ability to soothe, yet he sings with masculine intention. Despite his commercial success (about four million records sold to date), coupled with an understated sophistication not often associated with country music, he remains DEEPLY tied to his rural East Texas moorings. He still resides on the farm in tiny Klein, Texas, near Houston, where his grandparents lived, with relatives scattered on plots all around him. He raises horses and cattle. He's spent many hours learning the skills of a cowboy. He's suffered a shattered leg, the result of an angry bull and a moment of carelessness. He likes to ride dirt bikes. And he positively loves the trappings of a rural Texan: bluejeans, big belt buckles and cowboy boots and cowboy hats, of which he has a considerable collection.

Lovett is a rural poet who writes songs about slightly off-center, simple folks (including himself, since many of his songs look inward) who find themselves in complex emotional situations. Cowboys, roadhouse frequenters and tough Texas types fill his artistic landscape. Lovett has become increasingly adept over these two decades of songwriting and performing at imbuing with nuance and meaning the creak of a hardwood floor, the ambiguous stare out the window, the trusty old truck held together with bailing wire.

His new CD, My Baby Don't Tolerate (Lost Highway), is rife with these pastoral images.

The record, his twelfth, is a cornucopia of styles and a pretty fair indicator of his artistic infatuations over the past two decades. A typically strong collection of disparate songs, there's a little bit of folk, the obligatory overall nod to rock and roll that is all but impossible for an American performer to escape, and a flirtation with jazz ("You Were Always There"). There's a surprisingly potent dash of blues--look no further than the title track for proof of Lovett's mastery of the genre. There are a couple of upbeat, choir-heavy gospel tunes tacked onto the end of the record ("I'm Going to Wait" and "I'm Going to the Place") that would feel right at home on his 1992 "church" record, Joshua Judges Ruth. And underneath it all runs a river of country music (with a particular emphasis on western swing, as in "San Antonio Girl"), which colors everything he writes, plays and sings.

"All of my records have been like this, taking inventory of the songs I have and picking my favorite ones," said Lovett by telephone from his home in Klein. "All of my records are mixed up, and it's really a reflection of how mixed up I am. It's not a figured out conceptual approach. What IS consistent is the point of view and what the songs are saying lyrically."

"In My Own Mind," an homage to the rural roots he so embraces, is probably the catchiest tune on the record and a good illustration of his point. "I live where I can breathe/Ain't nothing but a cool breeze/Nobody that it won't please/Out here where you can breathe." It is fairly typical of Lovett's romantic take on country living.

More than anything else, Lovett seems genuinely baffled when asked about the songwriting process. "I'm always trying to figure it out because it's a mysterious process to me," he said. "I've taken different approaches over the years, but most of the songs that I'm happy with just seem to occur. They're just the result of sitting down with my guitar, and they just sort of present themselves. I play my guitar every day because I enjoy it and its part of the therapy of my life.... Without fail, every time I finish writing a song I like, I feel like that's it. I'll never write another song."

But he does, of course, and his talent for writing, arranging and performing has earned him greater commercial success than most of his peers with whom he's often mentioned in the same breath — Nanci Griffith, Emmylou Harris, Robert Earl Keen, Shawn Colvin and Steve Earle. Even so, Lovett suffers no illusions about his career. He knows he is NOT a mainstream country artist (he fits to a T the much humbler "Americana" niche), and he doesn't seem to take his success for granted. "The mainstream stuff is still what gets supported," he laments. "If you're outside of that, you just hope someone's listening."

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