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The alternate version of "Clocks" -- I didn't even know we had any alternates, we did that record (her obscure 1970 debut, "Gliding Bird") so fast. And the song "Falling in a Deep Hole," I still don't remember when and where I recorded that. I knew it had to be in my Washington years, when I came back to stay with my family and raise my daughter, and there was this wonderful couple (Bill and Taffy Danoff) who helped me on the club scene, and that was one of their songs. At first, I didn't even recognize it, it was just vaguely familiar. I still don't know where James even found it. Even after they told me what it was, I still wasn't sure. Is that terrible?

So it's great to be able to -- I hate to use the word, but to be able to share those things. It was a good opportunity to gather things that were very special, but not attached to any of the solo releases. There's really so much to choose from, I could almost put out another volume!

As you listened to all of these songs, what did you hear changing in your own voice? How do you think your actual singing has evolved?

I don't know if I really hear much that's different. Each record was such a steppingstone, one album followed another followed another. Even something like "Wrecking Ball," which for some people was so jarring -- I had a lot of those songs on tapes that I kept of songs that I wanted to record sometime. Then we went in with Dan (Lanois) and Malcolm (Burn, engineer) and it took on that sound, which seemed to shock some people, but it just energized me. It seemed like such a natural progression. But it's hard for me to be objective about those things, because I'm at the center of it.

So on the first two discs, these are songs I had chosen for my solo work, where a lot of the rest are things that people asked me to do. With the tributes, it's like you're given a homework assignment, though you do have to get very involved. The "Jesse James" stuff already existed, and I was chosen to play a dramatic role, so to speak, and those two songs were designated for me. It's all part of the musical journey. A lot of it is about responding to other musicians and other ideas. I love the collaborative part -- even on your own records, you don't ever work in a vacuum.

A few of your collaborations with Gram Parsons come at the top of the first disc. What did you take from your work with Gram that stayed with you in the years that followed?

Well, there's a jarring difference from "Clocks" -- where I was really a Joan Baez/Joni Mitchell wannabe -- to the song that comes next (Parsons' version of the Louvin Brothers' "The Angels Rejoiced Last Night"). I had never played with a band before, or with a drummer. Singing with Gram really honed my voice, helped me to counteract the sweetness but still keep it in there. And not being at the center, in the spotlight, I think that helped me find my own solo voice -- of course, I would have had to find it after Gram died anyway.

But with Gram, I found that I loved playing with a band, that I loved that country music of the Louvin Brothers, loved singing harmony. But since I came to music as a folksinger, that was always still in me, too. It was almost like the big bang, when everything really started for me as a vocalist and as a stylist.

Were you aware at the time that it was such a transformative influence?

It's a very natural, very blessed thing -- you don't think about it, you just know that you've found the place in the world where you're supposed to be. You always carry those moments with you, those things that change you forever. And then as I went on to work with all these other amazing musicians, it was a very creative time. It built my confidence up, I learned to trust my instincts and learned how to make records. In that protective, creative environment, I was able to continue the process of becoming a singer. Remember, most of my work is as an interpreter; only recently have people taken me seriously as a songwriter, though I did write before on (1984's) "Ballad of Sally Rose" album.

Why didn't you explore your songwriting more actively earlier in your career?

There were always lots of songs out there that I wanted to sing, and there weren't many people covering those songs. I was one of the first to hear Rodney Crowell's songs, I heard Townes Van Zandt when he was still relatively unknown outside of a certain literary following. So I had these writers -- that was brand-new, incredible stuff, and it was like striking your own vein of gold.

Gram was among the first to explore connections between country music and rock and folk, and to break those barriers down a bit. How do you think the relationship between the genres seems at this point?

It's kind of an odd situation with -- I suppose they call it "Americana" now. I'm not saying that Gram is totally responsible for that music, but he was certainly right there, bringing those things together, before other people were. So now you have people like Gillian Welch and David Rawlings, Buddy Miller, Steve Earle, all mixed in with Townes and Guy (Clark), and you don't hear a lot of that influence on mainstream country radio. In fact, it was really because of the lack of interest in the "Cowgirl's Prayer" album, which was more traditional, that I felt I could go farther out in left field with "Wrecking Ball."

Still, though, I think it's pretty healthy, with the Internet and satellite radio. You don't have to be on top 40 radio for people to hear you. "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" sold millions of copies and won all those Grammys, and it got hardly any airplay on country radio. But you have to be positive -- a lot of people who had never heard bluegrass bought that record and heard Ralph Stanley, which has to be a good thing, and then went deeper into it and discovered this incredibly rich vein of music, which you're not gonna hear unless you're listening to your local NPR station on Sunday morning. The point being that the music is actually available now -- before, you had to go find the Japanese imports!

Mainstream country radio is poorer for not playing this stuff, but I also understand the engine of top 40, and it's always going to be there. It's not new and it's not going to go away. And I think we're in a lot healthier situation because of these new formats, and even music that gets onto soundtracks. There's a much more expansive, well-educated, more open audience out there. You're not just gonna hear one kind of music on their iPods.

As "Songbird" makes clear, in recent years you've become known as much for your harmony singing and accompaniment as for your solo work. Do you have a different approach, a different plan of attack, whether you're singing for your own session or singing alongside someone else?

I don't approach it differently. Your voice is an instrument, and it needs to serve the song, to serve the project. You need to find the best way to get the emotional impact of the song across, and each song is different.

Musicians, at least the ones that I work with, are really pretty egoless about the music. People might have a hard time believing that, but it really is true. Like with the "Trio" record -- whoever sang the lead was whoever would sound best on that particular song, and we all thought the harmony was just as important as the lead.

So in that environment, it's easy. It's not, "Am I coming off well?", "Do I have enough time to do this?" It's really about sublimating yourself to the music, and that's the most important thing.

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Alan Light is the former editor-in-chief of Spin, Vibe and Tracks magazines and a former senior writer at Rolling Stone. His writing has also appeared in the New York Times, the New Yorker, GQ and Entertainment Weekly. His book "The Skills to Pay the Bills: The Story of the Beastie Boys" was published in 2006. Alan is a two-time winner of the ASCAP-Deems Taylor Award for excellence in music writing.