Stripped of any lingering psychedelic pretense or lounge act crooner aspirations, L.A. Woman captures a rock band embracing their roots and delivers. This is a blues album, no way around it. The band is hitting on all cylinders and Jim's voice has matured, either through whiskey and cigarettes, or age, into a convincingly legitimate bluesman. The song writing is tip top. The performances are inspired. The production is warm and accessible. L.A. Woman hints at the band's evolutionary direction that could have been. I fucking love this album.