The film "O' Brother Where Art Thou?" was released in late 2000, but is still flexing its cultural impact to this day.

Who would have thought that a movie about bluegrass and Homer's "The Odyssey" could re-ignite a long-dormant musical genre? No prognosticator predicted it would gross forty-five million dollars in its theatrical run and birth a soundtrack that would become a moneymaking and award-winning juggernaut.

Bluegrass, country and folk can all thank their shot in the arm to the Coen Brothers' Southern tale of love, comedy and betrayal.

Record labels nationwide have taken notice of this trend and are, of course, looking to capitalize. But William Elliott Whitmore is no flash in the pan, not looking to befriend SoundScan's newest member simply for sales and success.

Being born and raised on an Iowa farm has a multitude of effects on Whitmore's credibility. Simply existing in a small town gives any life a full range of emotions, and embracing these roots may translate into critical suicide for a rock or hip-hop musician. But, it gives Whitmore's lyrics resonance. The path he's walked is well worn and allows many to relate.

Whitmore's voice is his greatest asset and will silence many doubters; it seems to travel through the vocal cords of a chain smoker and the throat of a sword-swallower. If the man dined on glass bottles, one would hardly be surprised.

This delivery and the genre itself may not be glamorous, but nothing in the real world really is. Sensory reaction to Whitmore's new album "Hymns for the Hopeless" isn't optional. Whitmore forces you down a musical trip of pain and sadness immediately dragging you along for the ride.

"Hymns" is steeped in history and emotion - a history lesson told through the haggard voice of a man on the brink, on the edge of tears with nearly every track, telling stories that stand on their own with or without music. Take "Cold and Dead" for example, the entire track is a cappella, but is easily the most haunting and emotional of the disc. A live performance of this track would likely mesmerize those in attendance.

Singling out the album's standout tracks is an exercise in futility. Each track is as exceptional as the previous, and will be experienced differently by each individual. "Pine Box" and "From the Cell to the Gallows" are this reviewer's favorites, but each listener will have his or her own.

Whitmore feels like one of life's cagey veterans, one who's traveled down many of life's roads and has advice for all of us. This could also be the album's greatest weakness. Are Whitmore's resume, performance and life one that coincides with the image portrayed? Whitmore wisely chooses no self-portraits or traditional fare in his album booklet. He's a much younger man that his voice portrays. But who's to say age determines your ability to understand life and its many emotions? Are Charlie Parker, Tupac Shakur, Jimi Hendrix and Kurt Cobain defined by how many birth dates they collected, or by the trials and tribulations they overcame? The obvious answer is that age is nothing more than a number.

Melancholy and pain may be frequent territory on "Hymns," but one can't truly appreciate the highs without the lows. Whitmore's voice paints a musical scene that all can recognize, one that has been the backdrop for rough parts of many lives. This album provides a friend through the hard times, proving that Whitmore's "Hymns" are far from hopeless.