Once Nanci Griffith moved away from "folkabilly" in favor of an uptown middle-of-the-road sound, her albums often took on a self-important archness that detoured their journey from her heart to ours. The fact that she titled this one after a Carson McCullers novel telegraphs bad omens until you remember that many of her best, early records also honored her literary heroes. Clock Without Hands, her first album of mostly original material since 1997, turns out to be an elegant and gratifying surprise. While the production is a bit too pristine and dry, and Griffith's sometimes irritating delivery goes over the top on "Shaking Out the Snow," the album is a thoughtful and effective meditation on the awakening and thawing of a heart grown cold. With two songs meant for a seriously ill parent and three set in Vietnam--one a deeply felt tribute to ex-husband Eric Taylor, whose life was forever changed there--Griffith seems to be making amends, healing old wounds, and finding the strength to move on. This is a beautifully wrought record about the mysteries of love, longing laid bare, and the importance of living in the moment. It may be the most honest album of Griffith's career; certainly it's one of her most enjoyable. --Alanna Nash