When you hear Snake Forcefield and Brian Hall's early solo work, it's easy to dwell upon the carefully chosen words and sly turns of phrase. The lyrics speak more than the music accompanying them, and sometimes seem like the be-all, end-all to Hall's work. Love the words, and you love the albums. I had pegged him as Southern Virginia's answer to Joe Grushecky -- he was a guy who cared about his community, and who paid it respect through honest, low-key observations. I dug his work.

Though there was always more to the music than a few simple strums, With the Echoes and the Angels Did Engage makes it mightily clear why Hall chose songwriting over novel-writing: the guy just loves music. You'll feel his love not in the confessional lyrics, but in the melody and sound. Go four minutes into "Only a Feeling"; it's fitting when Hall throws his voice wordlessly out into the songspace, hitting the A-Ah-Ooh in a near-swoon as the guitars blaze from India, your local coffee shop, and Brian Eno's basement. Hall is still lost in truth, too ("I'm not sure you can hear me now, I'm so lost in this song"), but it comes as much from the heart of a musician as from the lovelorn, lost and untidy.

The music, though pleasing and digestible, is chock full of ideas, and you can tell that Hall is layering thought upon thought at moments where your mind is used to wandering. "Let's Build a Boat" is, from a lyrical standpoint, no "Boats to Build" (a Guy Clark song), but you follow the song as intently, because the music is so interesting, with guitars slipping in and out and keyboards tinkling like a wavering construction worker with hands in his key pockets. "Pale Songs for American Times" might even be better, and proceeds with a calypso spirit that might remind you of David Lindley records. It drifts lazily with the breeze, as does "Work Song Chant", which helps you to realize just how powerful a musical instrument Hall's voice can be. If there were a lyrical equivalent to these night cries, it would be equal to the best stanzas Springsteen ever composed.

Occasionally, Halls musical experimentation ("Wup Wup", "Legal Optimist") will make old fans pine for sparer, more word-driven pieces, but "Heyday" is such an exquisite update on all the joy and wonder the Tokens gave audiences long ago (with "The Lion Sleeps Tonight") that it's impossible not to want Hall to follow all of his impulses. When they hit their target, they are as breathtaking as mornings spent in the Blue Mountains, or dreams in which you're dangling in the sky.