Poor Jimmy Martin – the guy just never quite gets his due. He's a key bluegrass player, although he didn't invent bluegrass (that was Bill Monroe), and others who followed in the master's footsteps (the Stanley Brothers, Flatt and Scruggs) have reached higher peaks of acclaim and popularity. There's nothing wrong with those folks; still, the singer-guitarist deserves better. His high-tenor voice is a powerhouse instrument that bowled over even Monroe (he promptly hired Martin in 1949), and his recordings of "Hit Parade of Love" and "Free Born Man" are awesome nuggets of classic bluegrass.

On the other hand, Martin – who founded his own band, the Sunny Mountain Boys, in 1954 – isn't exactly shy about his contributions. He dubbed himself the "King of Bluegrass," after all, a move that keeps the pity card somewhat in check.

Don't Cry to Me is a fabulous collection of vintage Martin tracks, a treat for stalwarts and newcomers alike. All are taken from the recent Martin biopic, King of Bluegrass (the CD features five clips from the film), and the 16 tracks are mostly live performances dating from 1954 to 2001, 10 of them previously unreleased. The recording quality is quite good and the song selection classic, which is why the package doubles as a great starting point for those unfamiliar with gems like "Sophronie" (from a 1960 Pennsylvania concert), "Ocean of Diamonds" (from a 1958 Louisiana Hayride appearance), and "Don't Cry to Me" (one of two vintage studio recordings included here).

Martin is a fascinating and notoriously "difficult" personality (for details check out Tom Piazza's gossip-worthy True Adventures with the King of Bluegrass). Yet his music is so utterly fresh and bold that ego issues get easily shoved aside. Martin's voice is high and forward, and it leads tight arrangements that are seamless but never slick. His hard country heritage is unalterable, from the giddyap sound of 1954's "On and On," cut with Monroe, to "Time Has Made a Change," a 2000 song Martin recorded alone in his living room. The latter may be brief, but the barren honesty crackling from his lonesome voice is almost unbearable. (Kurt Wolff)