Loretta Lynn: Van Lear Rose

By RUSSELL BAILLIE

Herald rating: * * * * *

While White Stripe Jack White's reputation as a rock'n'roll gentleman may have taken - or given - a beating of late, he's still kind to senior citizens. White is the producer behind this remarkable set by Loretta Lynn, possibly the greatest country woman institution still standing.

Now pushing 70, she was country when country was still country. She was also the toughest and earthiest voice of the times. Her songs did for neglected housewives what Johnny Cash's did for the prison population.

Her collaboration with White suggests a similarity to Cash's great last albums with Rick Rubin.

But you have to admire Lynn's bravery. Singing her songs over White's grinding guitar rather than the usual Nashville niceties is some leap of faith. Her voice is certainly up to it - she can belt them out on an album that could have been a hip novelty but feels like anything but.

White makes his presence felt, whether when he steps forward for a duet on Portland Oregon, a raucous tribute to drunken sex fuelled by "sloe gin fizz", or on Have Mercy on which his guitar does the Bolero-blues behind Lynn's come-hither holler.

But there is still room for straight spare country tunes, some of which see the return of Lynn the wronged woman, crooning with contempt on Family Tree ("I brought our little babies because I want them to see/ the woman that's burning down/Our Family Tree") or ending her days in Women's Prison, probably after Mrs Leeroy Brown got mad and got even with Mr Brown and that big ol' blonde.

If she still gives great melodrama, here, too, Lynn reflects on her life and legend. The album is neatly bookended by the title track and the Story of My Life. Along the way there is a bittersweet widow's lament on Miss Being Mrs - hubby Doo died in 1996 - and she narrates a childhood memory over the dreamy acoustic and slide-guitar backing of Little Red Shoes.

The best thing about this is maybe it doesn't feel like a deliberate attempt at making a comeback, just a meeting of minds between a tough old broad and a passionate younger fan-boy able to have his way with the sound of her songs.

The result is the guy who made the rock album of last year just may have helped to make the country one of this.

(Interscope)