TERRELL -- that's the name of the singer and his band -- has the blues. It's not quite clear where he bought them, but one can only hope he got a good deal. Even if both the title, "On the Wings of Dirty Angels," and the embossed cloth cover of Terrell's CD suggests that it's a pricey item, these secondhand laments would seem to have little resale value.

Not that they haven't been handsomely retooled. Terrell (the band) is just the sort of glibly eclectic outfit that appeals to aging record execs ("Dirty Angels" comes from Giant, the label recently founded by ex-MCA chief Irving Azoff); the quintet neatly assimilates elements of blues, funk, rock and even rap, declaiming a chunk of Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" on "Shoutin Ground."

But it was probably hucksters like this that old Bob was pegging when he warned a generation to "watch your parking meters" -- slick journeymen whose music is as competent as their leader's poesy is embarrassing. After his tribute to "Women" ("She a dame/She's a broad/She's a chick/She's a slag/She's me in drag"), it's hard to figure how Terrell (the guy) can keep from hiding his dirty face behind his wings.

TERRELL -- "On the Wings of Dirty Angels" (Giant/Reprise). Appearing Sunday with Frontier Theory at the 9:30 Club.