It is rather appropriate that a photograph of actress of Tuesday Weld graces the cover of Time Capsule: The Best of Matthew Sweet 1990-2000. After all, she appeared on the cover of the first Sweet album I and many of my contemporaries bought, begged and borrowed during Fall '91/Spring '92 (Girlfriend). Like most of Matthew Sweet's music, then and since, it stood out, almost as an anomaly when compared to the musical landscape of the day. Following the trends has never been his intention, and this tendency has led to sounds that are difficult to place in the unofficial pop music chronology of the past ten years. This collection's title, Time Capsule, is logical, but it also does the tracks represented a disservice as they don't sound particularly dated.

Matthew Sweet, photo by Johnny Buzzerio.

Pop in the CD, and you'll hear selections, familiar to casual fans and fanatics alike, in chronological order and grouped by album. With some artists, this arrangement can have a jarring effect, making earlier works sound simplistic and inexplicably old, or worse, making newer stuff sound derivative of whatever brought the individual notoriety in the first place. Sweet seems to have skipped these "awkward ages," as a composer, lyricist and performer.

The collection kicks off, notably, by lifting the first three songs — verbatim — from 1991's Girlfriend and cherry picking the rest from it and each of his subsequent releases. From the opening twanging of "Divine Intervention" and the wistfully plainspoken mood of "Hide" (1999's In Reverse) to the two newest songs-they-should-be-playing on the radio ("Ready" and "So Far"), Sweet's oeuvre is distinguished by consistent quality and musically-layered sounds that almost belie the heartbreaking simplicity and honesty of his lyrics.

"Girlfriend," Sweet's first charting single, leads off guitars wailing, with a cheerful buoyancy reminiscent of Clapton-era Yardbirds pop. Yet, as the confident track fades out, he sings "I'm never gonna set you free," lending a slightly ominous and obsessive tone to all that was revealed before. The relentless hopelessness and isolation of "Devil With the Green Eyes" (the remixed version from Son of Altered Beast) is simultaneously offset and amplified by its mid-tempo, multi-tracked musical presentation. Capturing the rush of emotion that accompanies the early stages of love, "Sick of Myself" is a classic garage-rocker with a hesitantly hopeful twist. ("I'm sick of myself when I look at you... but I'm beginning to think, maybe you don't know.") And the quiet piano and otherworldly theremin melody of "Hide" builds into a sweeping climax as he comes to a bittersweet revelation: "Before I knew I had you, you were gone."

Unlike many greatest hits albums, Time Capsule doesn't sound like a group of disparate pieces thrown together because of their popularity or convenience. It is an "ultimate" Matthew Sweet album that celebrates his influences — Brian Wilson and the Beach Boys, the Byrds, early '80s new wave and Phil Spectre — and his ability to expand upon their ideas to create music that is not inextricably anchored to a musical time and place.

With Time Capsule as the last album in his deal with Volcano, Sweet is at a crossroads — as are many of his fans, who grew from being not-quite-children to sort-of-adult with his songs as a soundtrack. The closing number, while a new recording, is equal to any of his catalog works. He continues to combine heartfelt musicianship with truthful lyrics that don't descend into easy promises or sentimentality. They are lyrics now tinged with the appreciation and perspective that an individual gains with growing up and growing slightly older.

"I love you so far, I love you today," he sings. Matthew Sweet doesn't know what the future holds, but he has a legion of fans eagerly awaiting his next move. That's "what matters."