John Trudell is the Beatles, Stones and Dylan of Native American rock. Just like I'm the greatest Web-based rock journalist named Hoffman in Astoria.

Like any good left-liberal I spend a good deal of time thinking about the plight of the Native Americans. I saw Smoke Signals, I've had a copy of Ruth Beebe Hill's Hanta Yo on my shelf for the past ten years (unopened, but someday) and I've even come close to giving to the Leonard Peltier defense fund. And I buy John Trudell's records.

John Trudell is a poet, actor, lecturer, activist, intellectual and well-connected artist. He was the chairman of AIM during the years following the Oglala incident (he was and is a close friend of political prisoner Leonard Peltier's) until his mother, wife and children were killed in a fire thought to have been set by the US backed reservation puppets. In the mid-80s he released "AKA Graffitti Man" to universal critical praise (including from that of Bob Dylan, who would play the album before shows on his tour that year). About 12 actual citizens went out and bought the album, and half of those purchases were actually premiums for Pacifica radio memberships.

His music, and this is true of the newly released Jackson Browne-produced "Blue Indians," is usually a spoken-word poem over a roots-y beat and three tough guitar chords. "Blue Indians" features Quiltman on nearly every track, who counters the dialogue with background "traditional vocals." So in lieu of a lead-vocal melody is the caterwaul of Native American chanting. This is the album's most interesting musical aspect.

The problem with Trudell is the problem with all earnest political musicians. When the song works, it cuts to the bone; when it fails, it is an embarrassing purple mess. Trudell's "Blue Indians" rises to the heights of Lou Reed's "New York," but also falls to the depth of, say, Bryan Adams' "Cuts Like A Knife" with new lyrics by that crunchy granola-girl you knew in college. As an optimist, and as a guilty liberal, I'll say that the good outweighs the bad.

The good includes songs like "Angel of Sin," which features a thumping dancing beat and a call and response between Quiltman and a twangy steel guitar. It is a song not specifically about the Native American experience, simply about strength versus temptation. "In hell I knew I was still alive/or feeling real good dead." "Johnny and Joe" is about teen alcoholism on the reservation with a nod to Springsteen-esque imagery. It is a sad and beautiful song.

The title track "Blue Indians" shines a different light on the current rez-casino phenomenon. "Blue Indians pulled into melting pots/Grueling class rules the haves and have nots/Industrial reservation tyranny stakes its claim." I guess there's a class struggle no matter where you look.

"The Only One For Me" is the sole Quiltman-less track. It is a quiet study of starting over, with fantastic guitar work by either Mark Shark or Billy Watts (it is ambiguous) that is reminiscent of Carlos Santana's "Barboletta" period. If nothing else, I want to find out more about these guys.

"You Were" is the best track. It reminds me of Phil Ochs' "When I'm Gone" in tone. Trudell's deep and gruff voice, echoing lines each beginning "You Were." The actual melody is taken by Quiltman, Shark plays a Ry Cooder-like slide guitar, and there are haunting, gentle electric piano tones. It is really quite special.

There are some horrible songs on here, too. Songs so horrible that they stand out, at times, much more prominently than do the good tracks. (Indeed, as "You Were" is the last cut, it took me more than a few listens to even recognize its beauty.) "Grass Fire," a pro-cannabis ode ("My DNA needs THC") is stupid and grating, and ultimately conjures stereotypical "me smoke-um peace pipe" images. (This tune does feature a kick ass Billy Watts guitar solo; maybe pot is good for a few things after all.) "Dizzy Duck" is an annoying little story about a mystical duck. Forgive me if I am besmirching a centuries old proud Native American tradition, but I don't need a song about it. I didn't like Jethro Tull's "Hare What Lost His Spectacles" either. Same goes for "Bad Dog," a never-ending blues song about the mythic dog's struggles and journeys.

So, given the competition, Trudell is still king. "Blue Indians" isn't perfect, but when it is working, it is working well. I'd recommend picking it up, if for no other reason that I support affirmative action.

Learn more about Trudell at his Web site.