Come one, come all, to the second installment of the Great Gordo’s Damn Fine Discs List (In At Least Two Parts). In the sad event that you missed Part One, the Damn Fine Discs List is just that: a list of albums that deserve the praise “damn fine,” which is high praise indeed in my book. This is not a year-end summary, nor an all-time best-but a glance back at some of the music that has moved me most powerfully over the years. Last week, I covered blues, soul, rock, and jazz. This week: country, bluegrass, gospel, and singer-songwriter.

One Damn Fine Country Disc:
Willie Nelson, Red-Headed Stranger

I once heard it said that Willie Nelson’s voice was like an old baseball glove: soft, supple, and familiar. And nowhere is that voice stronger and more intimate than on 1975’s “Red-Headed Stranger.” A concept album in the best sense, Stranger tells the story of a wild-eyed preacher who has murdered his cheating wife. Poetic, intense, lyrical, it’s a throwback ballad set to bare-bones production, giving Willie’s signature voice and phrasing plenty of room to roam around. “Red-Headed Stranger” is the album Willie had to fight to get made — record company execs couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t want a string section and perhaps some snappy brass — and it became an unexpected smash, establishing Willie as an American icon. Deservedly so.

One Damn Fine Bluegrass Disc:
Bad Livers, Hogs on the Highway

Anyone who reads this space regularly knows that I don’t take my bluegrass straight. It’s true: I’m partial to a little bit of swing and swagger along with fine pickin’ and that high lonesome sound. Perhaps nowhere are those criteria met with more abandon and glee than on the Livers’ 1997 “Hogs on the Highway.” Playful, inventive, energetic, and built from rock-solid songwriting. The title track alone is worth the price of admission, mixing a thump-happy shuffle with Danny Barnes’ addled poetry. My favorite verse: “Mama’s in the kitchen, fixin’ country ham/Brother’s in the service, shot in Vietnam/Lunch is on the table, my cousin’s in the jail/Uncle’s in the government, he totes the US Mail.”

One Damn Fine Gospel Disc:
Shaver, Victory

There are some great recordings from the history of black gospel — check out a Peacock Records sampler for a taste — but for me nothing captures the intensity and immediacy of a man’s relationship with his God as Shaver’s 1998 disc “Victory.” Shaver is Billy Joe Shaver and his son, and in place of their usual electric fare, Victory offers plaintive, plain-spoken testimony of a hardscrabble five-and-dimer faith. Acoustic, gentle, a touch weary, it sounds just right. All the soaring falsettos in the world can’t match the depth of Billy Joe’s a capella opening ode, “Son of Calvary”: “Silent sacred solitude, how it knits upon my brow,” Shaver sings softly, and it’s impossible not to feel it.

One Damn Fine Singer-Songwriter Disc:
Gamble Rogers, Oklawaha County Laissez-Faire

During his lifetime, Rogers was known as a flat-picker, yarn-spinner, and down-home raconteur: think Mark Twain meets Merle Travis. He regaled his audiences with the lowbrow goings-on in the fictitious Oklawaha County, mixing a keen eye for character with an author’s love of wordplay. His best album, “Oklawaha County Laissez-Faire,” comes from a stage show of the same name. Rogers’ tale ends tragically: he died in 1991 while trying to save a drowning man. The best memorial? Put on the disc, pull up a beer, and take in his wonderfully-spun tales of Penrod, Elfrieda, and the hard-headed gang from the Terminal Tavern. (This album was self-released: you can find it at www.gamblerogers.com).

What? Still no Professor Longhair? That can only mean one thing: Part Three’s a-comin’. Stay tuned.