In 1968, when the time was right for fighting in the streets, when the fear and loathing of the Vietnam war was at its height, when Nixon was in the White House plotting, and taping, Buffy Sainte-Marie went to Nashville. A writer of savagely anti-government, political songs, a Native American, a woman, you might have assumed, of the left, put out this record, a perfect expression of country music. In this, of course, she was joined by The Byrds who gobsmacked the hippies by doing the same. And just as hearing the Byrds doing "I like the Christian life" makes you wonder if they're really serious about their country experiment, so hearing Buffy sing lines like "He's got shoulders like a mountain and a smile like a sunny day/ The patience of a gardener and the will to find a way..." or "Now his job may not be steady, with his name upon the door/But a dozen well-fed kids I know seldom ask for more" (from "He's a Pretty Good Man if you ask Me") - well, it kind of boggled my mind. This is parody, right? Well, yes and no. It's parody intermingled with celebration. Whatever the precise point of the album, it feels like an embrace. You cannot withstand this glorious voice, these great tunes, these undulating acoustic arrangements, interspersed with such old jawbones as "They Gotta Quit Kicking my Dog Around" and "Uncle Joe", and a sprinkling of Buffy's best-ever melodies : Sometimes When I get to Thinking, Take My Hand for a While, and Tall Trees in Georgia. It's drop-dead fabulous. I'm going to play it again!