Review: Jerry Lee Lewis and Pat Boone spread their religions

Whether through twist of fate or divine guidance, the singers Jerry Lee Lewis and Pat Boone represent competing poles within music over the last 60 years. A devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other: One is on wife No. 7, the other has been with the same wife through the decades. One can balance a glass of whiskey on his microphone stand; the other can probably spin a Bible on his fingertip.

As luck would have it, both of have recently released new albums. The sanctimonious, suntanned Boone, 80, has long been guided by a Christian God he worships throughout his sunny new “Legacy.” Described in the liner notes as Boone’s final album — which to me suggests a lack of faith — “Legacy” sticks to what the singer knows, temptation be damned.

Lewis, 79, has a more ambivalent and raucous relationship with his God on his latest studio album, “Rock & Roll Time,” which mostly features songs about lust, drink, murder and other non-Boone-sanctioned topics. He too explores familiar terrain but does so with help from the Rolling Stones’ avowed sinners Keith Richards and Ron Wood, ubiquitous session drummer Jim Keltner, guitarist Robbie Robertson and others.

Viewed through decades’ worth of work, the dueling narratives are fascinating. Both Boone and Lewis rose alongside Elvis Presley, Fats Domino and Little Richard during the rock ‘n’ roll revolution of the mid-1950s. Lewis, a reckless peer hellbent on shaking up the culture, was scarier than Elvis. Boone was a charming, neutered stand-in, perfect for a Christian America for whom “Great Balls of Fire” may as well have been called “Hail Satan.” Both survived by enduring a fair share of tribulations. Now, in the winters of their careers, they’re seeking peace. Or at least one is.

By my count, this is Boone’s 70th studio album (!) and it’s as sexless, safe and unquestioning as “Howdy!,” “Yes Indeed!,” “Great! Great! Great!” or any of his 66 others. Boone believes these songs will offer salvation via church choirs long after his presumed ascension, an affirmation of his faith if ever there was one.

Comprising 14 songs and three CD “bonus” tracks, “Legacy” opens with sage advice: “Breathe,” he sings, his mouth so close to the microphone that he might just nibble on your earlobe. In a different sort of sanctuary he could be a yogi calming his students or a husband seducing his wife.

Boone-land offers equal measures of beauty and judgment, overseen by a stern, righteous father touched by humility. When he exalts, though, he now does so in a frail, quivering voice. He dispassionately wonders in “Rule and Reign”: “By the voice of the Lord through the living word, how can we not stand and sing?”

During “You’re in the Will,” Boone casts the Lord’s gaze on, and ultimately forgives, a son who “wasted life on foolishness and fun” (gee, thanks). The line says all you need to know about Boone’s long-held aesthetic, one in which being fun-loving is an obvious character flaw. If a life filled with laughter is something Boone views as wasteful, his idea of heaven must be a hoot.

But then this is a man who in 2008 compared the Mumbai, India, terrorist attackers to gay rights demonstrators. Such intolerance simmers just below the surface throughout his work and is just as much a part of “Legacy” as his righteousness.

In its own way, Lewis’ “Rock & Roll Time” is as stubbornly predictable as Boone’s album, even if it contains more spirit and energy; in place of platitudes and strings are exuberant piano solos. Lewis can still do that quick yodel in his voice, can still inject Chuck Berry’s “Little Queenie” with momentum and joy.

Featuring songs written by Kris Kristofferson, Johnny Cash, Jimmie Rodgers, Bob Dylan and others, the album was produced by Steve Bing and Keltner with the kind of beloved attention that Jesus Christ himself would admire.

That’s most strikingly heard on the Killer’s version of long-ago Sun Records label mate Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues,” featuring sturdy support from Robertson (the Band), the E Street Band guitarist Nils Lofgren on pedal steel and Keltner’s swinging rhythm. Lewis channels frustration in Dylan’s “Stepchild,” which teams Doyle Bramhall II on guitar and producer-instrumentalist Daniel Lanois on pedal steel. The title track is an unapologetic explanation on a life lived on “rock ‘n’ roll time,” something that occurs long after Pat and his lovely wife, Shirley, have retired for the night.

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For the Record

Nov. 4, 3:25 p.m.: An earlier version of this review referred to “the late” Doyle Bramhall. The musician on Lewis’ album is Bramhall’s son, Doyle Bramhall II.

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While they’re sound asleep, Lewis still seems to be having a hell of a lot of fun. You can almost hear Boone tsk-tsking in the background.

Twitter: @liledit