Nina Nastasia & Jim White You Follow Me

At the end of the day, You Follow Me might just be the latest volley in an ongoing argument as to whether or not The Drummer Is The Leader Of The Band. It's always a worthwhile debate: think OK Computer without Philip Selway, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot minus Glenn Kotche, Rain Dogs deprived of all those pots, pans, oil drums and rusty metal pipes. Jon Bonham. Meg White. ?uestlove. Jack DeJohnette. Even Ringo. The list goes on.

Nina Nastasia brings her own songs, but Jim White's name is on the cover of this album for a reason. Doggedly, devilishly, White drags each of these songs out through the woods in the middle of the night and forces them to find their own way home. Even when the songs don't succeed (and to what extent they do will depend on your opinion of Nastasia's brand of songwriting in general) there's incentive in trying to decipher White's method. He and Nastasia sound like the old playing partners they are: You Follow Me is there and gone in just over half-an-hour, seeming at once like it was relentlessly practised and yet also recorded in a quick, one-off session. At its best moments, Nastasia follows White to the wind-blown cliff's edge, and then picks her own way back through the thorns.

The album drags badly at first. I Went Out Walking is the sort of nearly tuneless, chordless, slow-building affair that Ani DiFranco regularly mistakes for songcraft, and I Write Down Lists is just as gimmicky, if slightly more rhythmically interesting. But the next track, Odd Said The Doe, may be the album's high point: it rolls along like a lonely drive beneath a threatening sky, before White ignites a sudden, heavy storm and Nastasia sounds unexpectedly possessed. Then just as quickly, the gale dies down, and Nastasia sails on, sounding wiser.

As the album progresses, White's method becomes clearer. His skittering, stammering beats rip the foundation out of Our Discussion so that Nastasia's central line - "I don't believe / in the power of love" - sounds like an echo in an empty house. Unfortunately, Nastasia's lyrical turns are rarely memorable, and her phrasing, like so many other artists in her genre, lacks punch. But in this case, that might be the idea - she's leaving space for White, and it's refreshing to hear. Really, these songs beg to be heard live: White's drumming is designed to stir up, torment, and - at just the right moments - over-power the inherently intimate nature of Nastasia's songs. The marching, booming climax of Late Night would surely sound best in a cramped, uptight folk club - where the drummer normally just keeps time. Steve Albini's bare, bracing production does somewhat capture this atmosphere, but it leaves you wanting more. Nastasia said in a recent interview that she and White got the idea for the album after they started playing shows as a two-piece, and my guess not all of that live magic translates on record.

In the end, most of the winning moments on You Follow Me belong to White. But on the handful of tracks that really work, White's shuffling, insomniac beats take Nastasia's songs places they would never normally go. The beauty is in hearing how lost they can get, circling, following each other.