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A thoroughly defiant and unrepentant Hank Williams III builds on his impressive debut by stripping away any semblance of upscale production values, reveling in self-styled debauchery and generally spittin’ at anything that gets in the way of his good time. Augmenting his basic band with pedal steel, dobro, blues harp, and fiddle, Hank III and company sound loosey-goosey, like they're recording in their own juke joint. Other than a searing blast of southern rock brio on "Trashville" (yet another screed directed at the milquetoast country mainstream in Music City), with ZZ Top’s Billy Gibbons adding some feisty guitar, Hank III stays firmly in a hard country groove, and mostly in an up-tempo vein. The title track, an artfully crafted honky-tonk lament complete with weeping steel guitar, is a moment when Hank III considers some misgivings about his lifestyle, but ultimately decides "livin’ the night life is where I belong." That puts some distance between himself and his legendary granddad, who boxed with God over his demons but felt powerless to deny them. III, on the other hand, doesn’t waste time worrying if he’s gonna burn in hell —- he’s too busy reveling in excess and substance abuse: "Whiskey, Weed & Women," "5 Shots of Whiskey," "Mississippi Mud" ("I take my shots straight outta the jug/ And I like to get pure drunk in that Mississippi mud"), and the furious barn-burner "Nighttime Ramblin’ Man" ("I’m a drinkin’, smokin’, tokin’ nighttime ramblin’ man") deliver on the hedonistic promise of their titles. But not every song parties hearty. The long gone, lonesome blues of "Callin’ Your Name," with III’s voice moaning and cracking like Hank I's, is powerful tear-in-the-beer stuff, and a somber take on Bruce Springsteen’s "Atlantic City" closes the album on a curious, noir note. Whatever III’s up to, it’s not like what anyone else is up to, and its overt suggestion of the candle burning at both ends adds a certain voyeuristic thrill to it all. See you in the funny papers, Hank. David McGee, Barnes & Noble