Although the score to Timerider was written by Nesmith and released with the film in 1983, it wasn't until seventeen years later that the soundtrack album finally made it's stand-alone debut on CD.  The movie, which is low-grade time-travel entry about a motorcyclist who suddenly finds himself transported to the old west, along with his motorcycle, is given a muscular, rock-driven instrumental score, heavy with synthesizers, drum machines, and squealing guitars.  While Mike tries to make each piece a tone-poem of sorts, it all sounds incredibly dated now, with the ever-prevalent sythesizers sounding completely incongruous in the 1877 California setting, and Nesmith failing to develop a memorable theme for the characters, with only the melody to "Scared To Death", with it's clip-clop rhythm and moody electric guitar melody, and the clink and rattle of "Dead Man's Duds" sticking out from the pack of power chords and repetitive motifs.  It's generic action music that would fit in most any film from the early eighties, with the exception that Mike's penchant for country-western trappings which occasionally rears it's head in a pedal slide guitar, or other western-style twang - but to truly serve the picture, it would have been better if Mike had gone back to his accoustic folk/country roots to portray the old west and left his Moog and drum machine at home.

Mike's first proper album since 1979 was hotly anticipated release by his fans, and did not disappoint upon its release.  A return to his accoustic roots, Tropical Campfires finds Mike in fine voice and fine company.  The songs are varied, from the gentle opening drowse "Yellow Butterfly" which perfectly captures the light, floating feel of the subject, while "Laugh Kills Lonesome" is a carefree tropical groove laid atop a sharp melody and incisive lyrics.  "Moon Over The Rio Grande" has gorgeous harmonies and a prototypical country-twang feel to it that's pure Nez.  Next follows the supremely gentle and lush "One" and the simple, lovely "Juliana", which is far and away the most beautiful ballad Mike has ever written, with just his voice, guitar and pedal steel making their presence felt in the verses, and the chorus erupting into shimmering harmonies - it's enough to give me chills each time I hear it.  He launches into a spanish-language cover of "Aquarela Do Brasil" which is easy and free in its rhythms and singing, less successful is the cover of "In The Still Of The Night" which Mike sings in his lower register, and compared to what's come before, it drones on.  "Rising In Love" in an adventureous mid-tempo anthem about the joys of falling (rising) in love.  For some reason, Mike chose to cover another old standard, Cole Porter's "Begin The Beguine", but this cover is fresh and new with Mike's latin rhythms, and it fits right in with the rest of the album.  The slick spoken-word intro of "I Am Not That" is carried along with a tight, propulsive track and a catchy, sing-along chorus.  Mike indulges in Hawaiian moods in "...For The Island"; a world-conscious anthem, and "Twilight On The Trail" returns to old-school western balladry, and seems to be saying goodbye to his fans - 'until we meet again'.  The only reason this album doesn't rate higher with me is since it all sounds so familiar and comfortable for Mike; in the past he's been able to surprise me, but here it sounds like he's playing it safe, with genres and styles that he's used before.  But it's all to the good, and Mike has never sounded better, or more content.

The Garden, a conceptual and thematic follow-up to 1974s The Prison, won Mike a Grammy Award for "Best New-Age Album" of 1994, and one listen will tell you why - it's a gorgeous, layered soundscape of moods and moments that haunt the listener for a long time after it's over.  It takes the same concept, that of being the "soundtrack" to an accompanying booklet, but as a soundtrack, it works, since the solo vocals have been pared back and replaced with lush harmonies and almost wordless phrases that melt perfectly into the instrumentals.  Add to that the presence of his children, whose voices add a measure of sweetness to the already sweet sound, and you have a sweeping aural picture.  It's difficult to describe individual tracks, since the sound of each track is so layered and unique; Mike claims that he was surprised to be nominated in the 'New Age' category at the Grammys, but this album is so diverse that it could hardly fit in any other defined category - you have oboe and guitar criss-crossing in "City" and hints of Japanese music in "Hills Of Time" - gentle piano power chords with celtic pipes and percussion in "Flowers Dancing" and Middle-Eastern flavoring on "Wisteria" - all of it infused with a gentle Western influence that's the only clue that this music could possibly be from Mike Nesmith.  Mike's voice comes through on the last track in the chant-like "Life Becoming" which again is lovely free-form poetry.  Each track ebbs and flows into different moods and rhythms, changing like the tides, it's another suprising change of pace for Mike: subtler, more engrossing, and more engaging than The Prison, it reveals how much Mike has grown musically as a solo artist.

Nesmith's second live album, a 1991 concert from Oregon, is somewhat less of a vital document than his earlier Palias album, and shows a more relaxed Mike easing through a set of pre-and post-Monkees songs.  The band, consisting of John Jorgensen on guitar and mandolin, Red Rhodes on pedal steel, Joe Chemay on bass, John Hobbs on piano, and Luis Conte on percussion, is also in the rocking chair mood, with this being the last concert which Red Rhondes played at before his death.  The sedate mood of the concert makes it a fine show to listen to in front of an evening fire, but not much here that will light one.  Mike's in good form here, with only a little more gruffness in his voice, and perhaps some struggling to reach some of the higher notes, but he still manages to jump easily into his falsetto on "Joanne", and his rougher voice gives more nuanced readings to his songs, from the mini-portraits he paints on "Silver Moon" or give a melancholy dip he gives the lyrics of "Juliana".  It's a fine concert, with Mike joking about how "Yellow Butterfly" is about "complex adaptive systems" and other fine, revealing banter thoughout - but the tempos are just a little too drowsy for my tastes; after a few ballads, and mid-tempo songs, I hanker for him too cut loose with "Dance" - or something with more meat in the percussion, even the upbeat "Rising In Love" and "Rio" seem to be taken down a notch or two.  Whereas the Palais CD was revelatory in it's urgent tempos and thundering drums, giving the songs a new-cast light, the songs on Britt feel slower, more mellow than what was cut in the studio.  Not my first choice for Mike's live sets, but a thicker slice of his solo years, and a gentle document from his '90s show.