When I hear music as soulful, heartfelt and immaculate as Greg Brown’s, I want to find some shimmering and honest way to tell you about it. But finding the right words to get to the gritty truth of performers like Brown requires more poetics than I can muster.

Greg Brown has been making music for more than 25 years and has 24 albums to his credit. Mostly, he’s written and performed his own material, gaining a reputation as a skilled and powerful songwriter.

Now he brings us “Honey in the Lion’s Head,” a collection of songs of the hills and woods of America. Like Dave Alvin’s Grammy-winning “Public Domain” — an inevitable comparison, especially when Brown opens with an even earthier “Railroad Bill” — “Lion’s Head” takes the songs of the land and transfuses them both with an updated esthetic and he’s own unique style.

Like Alvin, Brown’s throaty baritone gives the selections an authenticity that none of the ’60s folksies could achieve with their perfect harmonies and precious arrangements. Brown isn’t trying to make a commercial document to revitalize a genre. He is paying tribute by paying close attention to the original intent of the songs.

Fans of Alvin and Johnny Cash’s American Recordings series will love “Lion’s Head.”

And that’s as close as I can come to conveying the imperative message: Buy this CD.

I’m not a fanatical Bogart fan, but for a long time, I figured there were few good Bogart films I hadn’t seen, and fewer still (like none) that I didn’t at least know about.

Somehow, In A Lonely Place escaped my attention. That might have been because the original prints were in pretty bad shape and it rarely (if ever) showed up on teevee or video store aisles. Fortunately, not long ago, the film was restored and it’s now available on DVD.

In A Lonely Place is classic Noir. Set in 1950 Los Angeles with all the murder and intrigue a mystery fan could hope for. It’s also a love story. If you think every Hollywood film has a happy ending, you haven’t seen In A Lonely Place.

It’s the story of a screen writer who invites a young girl back to his apartment, then sends her on her way with cab fare. She is later murdered. The writer is accused of the crime, but a neighbor woman provides him with an alibi. Soon, the writer and neighbor fall in love. But the writer is a complex man who isn’t easy to adore. He is a man who is gentle and kind, but also hot tempered and thuggish. He is a man that viewers, and his lover, come to believe is capable of murder.

The script is deft and the plot artful and unpredictable. You are drawn into the characters pyschology both by their solid acting and by the construction of the film. It is beautifully shot (some great exterior scenes of 1950 Hollywood) and cut.

Bogart made so many wonderful films, but he may never have played a role better than Dixon Steele. He is both vulnerable and transparent and simmering with an unquenchable rage. He is cynical without being borish. He never overreaches for his anger, while leting his face tell stories words could never convey.

In the bonus material, a commentator says, “I’m not saying this is the greatest film every made …” I agree. But it is a perfect film. It is flawless in every way, and should be a must-see for every noir and Bogart fan.

Lot’s of goodness on Timm Herdt’s California politics blog right now.

When I saw a Mini Cooper parked outside my gym a year or so ago, I thought — what a cool car. It’s retro European, but thoroughly modern. If it wasn’t so damn small, I’d want one.

I figure I’d seen Minis in films about London and whatnot, but until today, I didn’t fully appreciate the Mini history. Today, I happened across the MiniGuy’s shop and found a garden of these quaint little hot rods.

It’s amazing, some of these cars can now sell for upward of $20,000. And the MiniGuy is quick to tell you, he’ll ship to anywhere in the United States, and has.

I sat in one of these things and surprisingly, I fit. But even at a low-end $6,000 model, I don’t think I want to adjust to a right-side drivers seat.

Bill Hobbs has all you need to know about the Bush AWOL myth.

So, do you want a slice of rock and roll history?

My wife spent a romantic first anniversary at the Julian White House. In the San Diego fires, sadly, it was destroyed. Here’s pictures.

Great game last night. I picked New England to win. I wanted to New England to win for the sake of Tom Brady and Rodney Harrison.

I think New England is the real deal. They are the model franchise of the salary-cap era. They have a chance to become a true dynasty, because they remain a young team, a team that should be able to control costs, a well-coached team, and a well-balanced team. I wouldn’t be surprised if NE repeats next year. The only question, as with any team, is injuries.

As for the rest of the game — I don’t buy the “custom failure” argument. I think it was deliberate.

But the entire half-time show was inappropriate. Too much skin and too much grinding for family programming. It was embarrassing to watch with my grandmother in the room. The range of acts presented was too immature for the majority of the audience. The whole thing was ill-conceived from the beginning.

As for the commercials, they are beginning to get tired. Same themes. Same jokes. Just a bit cruder and more callow.