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Not that Blue Highway haven't been working on a higher plane all along, but on Through the Window of a Train, they really outdo themselves. The album resonates with a contemporary backwoods feel coupled to an urgency born of strong original material flush with social consciousness. It's compelling as both literature and music, a memorable achievement in every respect. In his poignant "Homeless Man," Wayne Taylor observes a decorated Vietnam vet, now forgotten and struggling, fully realized and vividly recalled in all too common tale that rolls out with chilling inevitability against the steady strumming of two guitars and a mandolin supporting Taylor's sturdy tenor vocal. The same two guitars-and-mandolin lineup sputters a steady rhythm to power Tim Stafford's "Two Soldiers," a gut-wrenching but seldom-told tale of the emotional toll exacted on the uniformed men who bring families the tragic news of a soldier's death. Blue Highway end this chilling portrait with the sound of a lone, haunting brush drum and, further in the distance, a muted boom, like guns in salute to the fallen. Stafford's steady-churning title song, on the other hand, is a pure bluegrass toe-tapper relating the poignant reminiscences of a lifelong railroader. In the moody ballad "My Ropin' Days Are Done," Stafford co-opts the melody from "Streets of Laredo" to relate the anxiety of a rodeo cowboy who's feeling adrift as age does him in, although his plaintive adieu suggests he's got one more ride left in him before he goes home for good. Dreams die hard here. Get on board -- Blue Highway's on a roll. David McGee, Barnes & Noble