ALBUM REVIEWS

Dave Alvin and

the Guilty Women

“Dave Alvin and

the Guilty Women”

(Yep Roc)

* * * 1/2

David Serby

“Honkytonk and Vine”

(Harbor Grove)

* * *

Southern California’s long history as a hub for people on the move makes the notion of roots -- familial or cultural -- more elusive than most other places.

But on their latest releases, Southland natives Dave Alvin and David Serby don’t just mine the field of roots music, confidently setting their songs in primal rock, twangy California country, rolling New Orleans R&B; or earthy bluegrass surroundings.

In different ways they also focus on why it matters where we come from and how that plays into who we are.

Alvin’s always been a master storyteller, and as he’s often done so powerfully in the past, the “Dave Alvin and the Guilty Women” album sees him looking at his formative years as a music-loving kid in Downey yearning to sample the plentiful music available a few miles to the north.

“Boss of the Blues” lets the listener ride shotgun as he recalls the wonderment of cruising Central Avenue with brother Phil and blues-R&B; shouter Big Joe Turner decades ago. Even then, the Central Avenue jazz-blues-R&B; scene was long past its prime, but some of the music legends who’d played there in its ‘40s and ‘50s heyday were still around to share their stories with starry-eyed bucks like the Alvin brothers.

Then there’s “Nana and Jimi,” a tale of getting a ride into Hollywood to hear Jimi Hendrix for the first time, an event he knew would change his life forever, and “Downey Girl,” in which a woman represents a town that in turn represents anyone’s search for identity.

Alvin recently assembled the Guilty Women with sterling players Cindy Cashdollar, Nina Gerber, Laurie Lewis, Sarah Brown, Amy Farris, Christy McWilson and Lisa Pankratz after the death last year of his best friend and Guilty Men band mate Chris Gaffney. Rather than try to quickly fill a giant void in that outfit, he decided to go a different direction entirely.

Alvin and his new outfit will play their first area gig June 20 at the Coach House in San Juan Capistrano.

Serby was born in L.A. but raised by adoptive parents in Illinois and has carved a niche as a tradition-minded singer and songwriter happy to carry the torch of California country ignited in the ‘50s by Buck Owens. Serby only recently discovered that his roots in Southern California music run deeper than his love for the Bakersfield sound: Upon locating and meeting his biological father a couple of years ago, he was happily surprised to discover his father had worked as a country musician too.

He’s got an immensely enjoyable light tenor, not so much like those of his most obvious country influences but closer to another underestimated SoCal rock and country innovator, Rick Nelson.

“I Only Smoke When I’m Drinking” is a masterful cry-in-your-beer waltz, aided considerably by the exquisite work of one of the great West Coast steel guitarists, Jay Dee Maness. “For Cryin’ Out Loud” is a peppery Tex Mex polka in the “Streets of Bakersfield” mold.

Serby’s songs rarely touch as deeply as Alvin’s. Like Owens, Serby, who plays Sunday at the Grand Old Echo, is drawn more toward snappy couplets and witty turns of phrase than to Merle Haggard-like insights into the human condition. But they sure will sound great in a honky-tonk jukebox, in L.A. or anywhere.

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randy.lewis@latimes.com