Television has given the US a PR platform on a plate, and boy have they used it well. American literature classes have played their part in the Americanisation of the planet too. Everyone from Henry Miller to John Grisham has helped the cause of the Great American Way.

But some of us gleaned our mental images of Uncle Sam from some of the best songwriters of the last 20 years. And John Mellencamp has flown the flag more effortlessly than most. Even a cursory listen to 'Jack and Diane' and you couldn't but be hooked, with its quirky references to teenage sex, underwear and ice pops vendors. It took my 13-year-old remedial brain ages to work out what Diane's debutante back seat of Jackie's car meant. And as for what 'dribble off those Bobby Brooks' and the 'Tastee Freez' meant, well, I had to sit through dozens of trash movies before that penny dropped.

So, John Mellencamp's never been shy of shouting from the rooftops or whispering from the cellars, as he saw fit. And his latest CD reaffirms his place at the songwriters' table when the fatted calf is finally roasted.

Lyrically he's often suffered from comparison with Bruce, not so much because of any lyrical shortcomings, but because his storytelling style was more oblique, less soundbyte-friendly. Any which way, this latest album reasserts Mellencamp's inimitable capacity to force the light of day onto the darker underbelly of life.

Take 'It All Comes True' for starters. As fine a meditation on the doctrine of predestination as anything Martin Luther could've mustered (what heresy!), it's a canny comment on the racial inequity of middle America, and sits comfortably on top of finely honed guitar and percussion that never once threatens to overwhelm the lyric.

Less seriously, there are enough four-minute rock 'n' roll gems here to make Bryan Adams vomit. 'Where The World Began' uses the same bareboned guitar lines and hollerin' vocals long beloved of the Mellencamp, eh, camp. 'Chance Meeting At The Tarantula' conjures a swamp rock that'd shame a bayou-full of 'gators into submission, and 'Break Me Off Some' leaves most other erotically charged rappers in the shade.

But the standout comes courtesy of a collaboration with the wonderful Lisa Germano on 'Miss Missy'. Blessed by an uncharacteristic Indian piped intro and a tiptoeing harmonica, their partnered vocals flirt and dart around one another like coy lovers locked in that age-old game of feigning pre-coital modesty.

John Mellencamp's never been one for lazy formulaic albums. And his latest excursion into the studio proves he's got a lot more chances to take before he settles back into his rocking chair.