One exchange in Irvine Welsh's Trainspotting is every bit as chilling in its implications as any of the book's graphic descriptions of drugged-out excess. According to the logic of one of Trainspotting's junkie philosophers, musical careers can be divided into two phases: early years, in which musicians have "it," and later years, in which they do not. Whether viewed as an elder statesman, a comeback kid, or simply the exception that proves the rule, Nick Lowe doesn't fit the pattern. In the '70s, Lowe made pub-rock that transcended the modesty of the term, but like many musicians, he struggled to find a place in the decade following his rise, and suffered from the kind of confidence-shaking neglect that has done in countless artists. Recently, none of that seems to have mattered: Lowe keeps turning out albums that sound like the best of his career. Following 1998's torchy, twangy Dig My Mood, The Convincer again pays tribute to Lowe's American influences without ever surrendering to mimicry. A slow, soulful album that at times sounds like a lost after-hours session from '60s Memphis or Muscle Shoals, The Convincer again finds Lowe in a mostly blue frame of mind, offering a half-hearted dressing down of a romantic rival on "Homewrecker," slipping into bad habits ("Lately I've Let Things Slide"), and running afoul of the deities ("Cupid Must Be Angry"). Time has made Lowe's voice richer and more expressive, and his songwriting has followed suit. An expert backing band only underscores these developments, with Geraint Watkins' plaintive, drawn-out organ lines providing the perfect instrumental correlative to Lowe's voice. Whether Lowe still has "it" or whether he's found something else, he's now making music that digs even deeper than the hooks of his catchiest pop songs.