CINDY LEE BERRYHILL

From her earliest days singing acoustic songs in San Diego rock clubs, to her co-founding of the NYC underground "anti-folk" scene, to her complex work with her Garage Orchestra, Cindy Lee Berryhill has consistently painted an imaginative tapestry of words and music that are at once socially relevant and irresistibly playful.

Where other singers might have been bitter, she was humorous. Where some were angry, she was introspective. Even when turning to her most personal anguish for inspiration, as she does with hew new CD, "Beloved Stranger," Berryhill manages to sound hopeful. And in those moments when hope no longer even seems an option, as in the album's title track, there is dignified acceptance and compassion.

"Beloved Stranger" could be called her most political album; its foot-stomping "When Did Jesus Become a Republican?" certainly qualifies it as political, if not partisan CD. But Berryhill has been political from her debut album on Rhino Records, "Who's Gonna Save the World," which contained the straightforward Reagan indictment, "This Administration." She also has given voice to women in both lighthearted and serious issues, from "Damn, Wish I Was a Man" from her first album to "Baby (Should I Have the Baby?)" from "Naked Movie Star."

And just as every songwriter with an acoustic guitar and an opinion is at risk of being labeled a protest signer or anointed the next Woody Guthrie, Berryhill sometimes has been misinterpreted as just that, and was booked at political rallies after her first album.

The temptation to label is understandable, considering the strength of her political songs, but it also would be short-sighted and neglectful of the bulk of her work. Berryhill's catalogue includes songs about UFOs, dreams about Brian Wilson, tales of shoe thieves and too many other unconventional themes to name. In her entire catalogue, however, there is not one song that could be called a simple, sentimental love song.

"Beloved Stranger" is more grounded, focused and era-specific than previous albums. Opening with the foreboding lyrics "Bad news playing on the radio," the listener is braced for the worst, prepared for a report of yet another tragedy to endure, as the CD kicks off with "Unexpected Packages." But the song quickly takes a sharp turn with its chorus, "Hope comes along on the wings of a dove, love arrives in unexpected packages." Written just after Sept. 11, 2001, the song is one of redemption, a celebration of how tragedy ultimately makes life that much more appreciated.

Even if "Beloved Stranger" can be called her most personal and darkest album, there still is the Berryhill staple of humor and fun, such as in the joyous romp "Bars, Booze and Boysclubs" and the rollickingly defiant "Make Way for the Handicapped." And, despite its cutting lyrics and serious subject, who couldn't smile when listening to "When Did Jesus Become a Republican?"

But the heart of the album is in the more subtle title tracks, such as "Feel Like I Owe Somebody Somethin,'" a song about the guilt that comes with feeling your country has provoked a war you consider unjust.

"Some game's been played, some plans been hatched. Some things been said with my name attached," she sings. "Some people got hurt, I'm sorry for that. Some people did what they thought I'd asked."

More personal is the song "Cry Me a Jordan," Berryhill's heart-wrenching reaction to losing her mother as a child. An intensely personal song, Berryhill said she could not have recorded it until the recent passing of her father.

Also personal yet universal, "Forty Cent Raise" is about trying to support a family with a low-paying job. Joining her on the song is John Doe, who makes several guest appearances on the album along with Lenny Kaye, Peter Case and Dave Alvin.

Berryhill said she felt like rallying her friends for support after taking off about 10 years from her last album. She's kept busy in that time by writing songs, playing with her San Diego based band, and raising a son with her husband, rock journalist Paul Williams, founder of Crawdaddy Magazine.

Williams still is suffering from the effects of a head injury sustained in a bicycle accident about 12 years ago. Caring for her husband at home gave Berryhill empathy for the many families dealing with American servicemen who are returning from Iraq with brain injuries.

"How do you miss someone who's right here with you?" she sings on the title track, "Beloved Stranger," a song about a wife adjusting to life with a husband she no longer recognizes and who no longer recognizes her. "You wear the face of someone who used to live here," Berryhill's character sings in the poignant song. The subject could have been tinged with anger and delivered with a heavy hand, but instead is the most delicate on the CD.

As with the entire album, "Beloved Stranger" shows Berryhill not as someone politically charged, angry or out to change the world, but rather someone with values, someone frustrated by her times and, perhaps above all, someone with compassion.