The ever-ambitious Michael Nesmith made a giant leap away from the kind of country-rock records he'd been making for the first half of the '70s with The Prison, which was originally packaged with a short story he wrote as a companion piece. Musically, Nesmith here takes things well beyond the rootsy twang of his earlier albums, embracing a more harmonically complex approach that comes across as a kind of cosmic, balladic version of progressive rock. There are no frenzied, fret-burning riffs or tricky time changes, but the synthesizer-bedecked spaciness of the arrangements is undeniably a kind of art-rock variant. The scope of the lyrics is equally expansive; while Nesmith's previous solo releases didn't shy away from impressionistic imagery, The Prison is a full-blown concept album tied into core philosophical issues of human identity and the emotional/psychological prisons that people construct for themselves. It's heady stuff, but Nesmith's natural melodic gifts give the whole thing a very organic flow. And you don't need the prose to enjoy the music.

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