he first thing that gets you with Joe Nichols is that voice When III first started playing, I was honest-to-God shocked, thinking that Merle Haggard had somehow hijacked the album. Nichols’ voice alone assures that (hopefully) he’ll never want for work, as strong and distinctive as (and reminiscent of) Haggard’s and George Strait’s. In addition to the voice, Nichols’ brand of country is pretty damned traditionalist, à la Strait and Randy Travis. In short, he’s a Nashville wet dream, except for one nagging problem: new trad isn’t exactly burning up the country airwaves nor sales charts. So where’s that leave an artist like Joe Nichols?

Fortunately, it leaves him as an artist still, by and large, following his own muse on his third album, III. There are a few sop-to-commerce touches here and there, sure, but they’re easily digested. First single “Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” is a silly song that deserves to be a decent-sized hit, very Brad Paisley (hell, half of Paisley’s career is built on songs like this – no one pulls ‘em off better) – and like Paisley’s work, this is commercial without being obnoxious, cute without being cutesy.

Nichols is also a dork, akin to Dierks Bentley (and me, for that matter), not afraid to laugh at himself, and I mean that as a compliment. For example, in “Honky Tonk Girl” (which Nichols co-wrote), he rhymes “Lexus” with (of course) “Texas” but then tosses “echelon” into the next line. Then he turns around and hits you with a song like “Talk Me Out of Tampa,” which isn’t even a cousin, but an out-and-out sibling to (whatcha know) Strait’s “Tell Me Something Bad About Tulsa,” a beautiful, sad, don’t-let-me-do-what-I-want-so-much-to-do song.

In fact, one of Nichols’ greatest strengths is that he’s just as good with the fun-slash-jokey side of country as with the serious, tear-in-your-beer branch. “I’ll Wait For You” is another fine example of the latter, and another from Strait’s ilk, as lovely as this kind of country balladry gets. Nichols also proves his worth by cutting Steve Earle’s new classic (apparently) “My Old Friend the Blues”; Patty Loveless does the same song on her new Dreamin’ My Dreams, but Nichols makes me forget Loveless’ version. Making a Patty Loveless song seem an afterthought is a tall order, mind you, but Nichols has got the goods.

Yes, I’m fully aware that I’ve spent much of this review comparing Nichols to other artists; he’s still working on his own identity, on proving himself as himself, three albums into his career. But a career’s what Joe Nichols has, thanks to that voice, and a knack for picking songs up to its snuff. It remains to be seen if Universal South can make a star out of him, but if it never happens, it won’t be his fault. To paraphrase another title from III, Nichols is about as country as it gets, and for that the genre’s fans should rejoice.