Jim Lauderdale, who just nabbed a Grammy for best bluegrass album, started making records in the early ’90s — a fertile time when Emmylou Harris, Lucinda Williams and the Mavericks were broadening the definition of country music, before Shania Twain downgraded it to weak pop.

Lauderdale is closer to the first wave of enthusiasts — like the Rolling Stones, or their buddy Gram Parsons — who married country to rock. To these performers, and Lauderdale, too, country's much-cited “roots” are a literal sense of place, from Elvis Presley's Tupelo to Buck Owens's Bakersfield.

Honey Songs is a record with an audible delight in its own making. Lauderdale is energized by the aptly named Dream Players, including James Burton and Ron Tutt, veterans of both Elvi — Presley and Costello. Burton's self-described “chicken pickin'” is all over the disc and drummer Tutt propels "Daughters of the Majestic Sage," the sort of widescreen western tune you'd swear they don't make anymore.

Lauderdale knows country music has a tradition of mashing up other genres. Opener "Honey Suckle Honey Pie" is the sort of gospel-rock hybrid last heard from Delaney & Bonnie (or Eric Clapton when he was worth listening to), while "It's Finally Sinkin' In" has the “In the Wee Small Hours” vibe of primetime Willie Nelson or Charlie Rich. Hell, "Stingray" even reminds the listener of the Batman theme. With Emmylou on deck for closing song "I'm Almost Back," Lauderdale even evokes Parson's wracked soulfulness. By disregarding its contemporary straightjacket, Lauderdale makes country music with both roots and branches.