With the Wallflowers, Jakob Dylan made music that in most ways owed little to the implications of his last name. It’s not that he didn’t write quality songs, not that the band didn’t deliver them with a cranky effectiveness — but obviously Dylan wasn’t interested at all in cashing in on his father’s sound or aesthetic. While Bringing Down The Horse could in some ways fall into the singer/songwriter category on the merit of its well-written tunes, this most successful release of the Wallflowers’ catalogue leaned more (as did all of them) to the rootsy rock, full band vibe of the Jayhawks and the Heartbreakers than the confessional “a guy and his guitar” thing some expected. Jakob Dylan was going for his own thing, and if his heritage caused some listeners to expect something else, well, that was their problem, not his.

But the years have passed, and after a long break (and possibly that subsequent releases with the Wallflowers failed to garner the attention that Bringing Down The Horse earned) Dylan teamed up with a producer that damn near defines the term versatility, Rick Rubin, and out came Seeing Things.

“Unadorned” is a word that easily comes to mind after a few spins — there’s nothing here that doesn’t need to be, as most songs on Seeing Things are driven by simple acoustic guitar and voice. Where appropriate, light drums, bass, electric guitar and harmony vocals are layered sparingly. There’s a similarity to the stark songwriting and sonics of Springsteen’s Nebraska here, without the pervasive darkness and hopelessness. Not that Seeing Things is all rainbows and sunshine — it’s not, as evidenced by Dylan’s crafty wordplay on the excellent “War Is Kind.” But he’s not out to bum anybody out; just cast some light on the tough subjects as well as the playful.

Having said that, Seeing Things opens with “Evil Is Alive And Well,” and follows with “Valley Of The Low Sun.” The former casts an eye on the many places the bad things hide, whether “... on a crowded beach/maybe asleep in a roadside hotel,” the latter paints a picture of the disorienting nature of war from someone right in the middle of it, with the line “we bow down and worship these bandits and cowboys/unable to hold their own guns” leaving little to question as to who he’s calling out. A farmer’s frustration and determination to make something out of a piece of family land drives “Will It Grow,” and the gritty country blues of “I Told You I Couldn’t Stop” is one of the finer tracks here, an ominous slice of songwriting full of vengeance and fire.

Whether it’s the brightness of a tune like “Something Good This Way Comes” or the dark of “I Told You I Couldn’t Stop,” Dylan sings with a comfortable detachment that’s tough to describe. Despite the subject matter, whether or not he’s singing as a character in the song, Dylan more often than not comes across as an observer. This is a good thing — it keeps him from sounding too precious on the sweet stuff or too melodramatic on the sour. For the most part he’s his own accompaniment throughout the album, handling all the vocals, guitar and bass, enhancing the sense of intimacy that makes Seeing Things click so well.

This isn’t an album that necessarily redefines Jakob Dylan as a songwriter, as it’s obvious that this kind of format fits him perfectly. Nor does Seeing Things snap you up by the collar from the first listen and demand your attention. But it does hold up to many listenings, often giving up something new with each spin, and there are some wonderful songs here that need nothing more than what Dylan and Rubin provided them. To try and step beyond the shadow of Bob Dylan is surely a formidable undertaking for any singer/songwriter, let alone his son. But not once did I find myself thinking of Dylan while listening to Seeing Things, and maybe that’s one of the best things to be said. Jakob Dylan’s his own songwriter, and this album’s fine proof of it.

(Chris Cooper can be reached at thumbpick43@yahoo.com)