"Leaving's getting harder all the time, staying home hangs heavy on my mind," Merle Haggard sings on his new album, "If I Could Only Fly" (Anti Records). Still, the song continues, "If I don't travel, I don't make a dime," and so the legendary singer and songwriter is aboard his bus once again, on his way to Nashville at the start of yet another two-week tour.

"I really have never quit," the 63-year-old Haggard notes. "I do about half the possible time on the road. We'll be out here about two weeks out of a month. Sometimes we'll take a month off, and sometimes we have to make up the time we took off. When you've got people who work for you, you've got to think about their checks. They want to get paid every week, and in order to keep good people, you've got to give them what they want."

That may sound like a mundane reason for touring, but it's one born of experience.

Though he's one of country music's brightest and most enduring stars ­ he first hit Billboard's Top 40 chart at the end of 1963, stands second on the list of most number one singles in the field and was inducted into the Country Music Hall Of Fame in 1994 ­ he's learned the hard way to keep a close rein on business matters.

"20 or 30 years ago, I didn't watch business very closely at all," he says regretfully. "I had people that were doing that, and some of them were honest, some of them weren't. Lately, I'm pretty much on my own. We're answering the phone, and we're actually signing our own checks ­ watching things pretty closely, because if you don't, you know the consequences."

Similarly, it was more business experience rather than any special compatibility in musical outlook that seems to have led Haggard's decision to release his latest album on a label spun off from a company ­ Epitaph Records ­ best known for its punk rock roster.

Anti Records, founded last year by Epitaph owner Brett Gurewitz, made its debut with the Grammy-winning "Mule Variations" by Tom Waits.

Gurewitz, who says that the label's mission "is to provide successful recording artists who are disillusioned with the corporate music establishment a new way of doing business that makes sense artistically and economically," calls it "a real privilege to provide (Haggard) with the type of working environment that he deserves."

"They didn't seem to want me any more in mainstream country," Haggard affirms. "And, you know, I played beer joint rock 'n' roll bands before I ever played country, so I thought well, here's this label that's all enthused about my music, and they're associated with young people, and I'd like to get my music to the young public as well as the older folks. They offered me a little more, and they actually have done more already than any record company I've ever been with. I can't say enough good things about them, and that's not usually the case," he laughs. "I've been with some real dandies."

Indeed, Haggard's one-record deal with Anti was premised on the label's interest in his new material and its willingness to take the album he delivered, rather than impose direction.

In that regard, it stands in marked contrast to two recent releases, 1999's "Live At Billy Bob's" (Smith Music Group) and "For The Record: 43 Legendary Hits" (BNA), both of which were recorded with essentially the same band.

Of the latter, Haggard says that "a couple of years ago, they came and asked me to duplicate some of the old hits so they'd have their own versions. You know, Capitol owns those ones from the beginning, and CBS had the desire for me to record the same songs so they'd own the masters. So, they paid us a lot of money to do that, and it was a chore, because when you get something as good as you can get it, then it's hard to match up. Some of them were better, and some of them weren't as good, and some of them were just different. But it was a job."

"If I Could Only Fly," on the other hand, seems to have been a labor of love. Though the songs and arrangements touch many of the bases The Hag has covered musically over the past 40 years, from classically simple country songs to western swing and blues, the overarching mood of the album is restrained and contemplative ­ though not without its startling moments.

"Watching while some old friends do a line, holding back the want to in my own addicted mind," the singer admits in the opening of the CD's very first song, "Wishing All These Old Things Were New," longing for "good times like the roaring '20's and the roaring '80's too."

Still, it's a quiet tone that predominates, and even the bluesy "Honky Tonky Mama" foregoes the rowdiness with which he once might have invested it.

"I'll tell you where that song came from," Haggard says. "Governor Jimmie Davis recorded that song somewhere around 1933. You know, he's 101 years old, and I just happen to be a big Jimmie Davis fan; over the last 3 or 4 years he and I have become pretty close. And I liked that old song of his, and Epitaph liked it. It's got that old gut-bucket saxophone on it, you know."

"The title song, 'If I Could Only Fly,' has been around for some time," he continues. "Willie Nelson and I recorded that in 1987 on a duet album ("Seashores Of Old Mexico"). It was one of those albums that they didn't push, but the song stuck around. People kept wanting to hear it. They kept calling me wanting me to sing it at funerals, they wanted me to sing it at weddings, and I had to sing it at Tammy Wynette's passing."

"It's an uplifter, and we just rerecorded it and got a good record. It's just one of those songs that's just been laying under the surface for many years, and it might just go through the roof," Haggard laughs.

When it comes to the songs he's written himself ­ "If I Could Only Fly" and "Honky Tonky Mama" are the only two on the album he didn't have a hand in writing ­ Haggard continues to reflect his own life circumstances, much as he has throughout his career.

Family looms large here, reflecting his recent marriage to Theresa Lane Haggard and the consequent presence of children in his life once again.

In "Wishing All These Old Things Were New," he laments that "the kids don't want my cigarettes around, while the moving "I'm Still Your Daddy" strikes close to home as the singer directly addresses his children, Ben and Jenessa, who, together with Theresa, appear on the cut singing harmony. "I knew some day you'd find out about San Quentin," it begins, an allusion to Haggard's young and troubled days before he began his musical career.

"Thanks To Uncle John" picks up that thread, recalling the man who taught him his first guitar chord and weaving a slow and tender quotation from "Rubber Dolly," the fiddle tune he learned back then, into the accompaniment.

"Proud To Be Your Old Man" finds the singer in a lighter mood, as he celebrates his new marriage: "I might be over the hill, but you make growing old quite a thrill," he sings to a durable country melody.

Still, Haggard finds inspiration for songs in a variety of sources. Asked about "Crazy Moon," a gentle tune with a hint of Latin sway written with Max Barnes, he chuckles.

"Well, you know, one day I was fishing, and someone said it's not good to fish when the sun and the moon are both in the sky at the same time. I thought, well, what a title, 'Crazy Moon.' Crazy is a great word for songs, and moon is a great word, and I thought, you know, it really is crazy that the moon's in the sky and the light can't even be seen unless you look up and accidentally notice it ­ it's sort of crazy."

Throughout the album, Haggard's band, The Strangers, provide sympathetic backing. Though the band has sometimes numbered close to a dozen over the years, most of the new disc features small ensembles, occasionally augmented by guests like pianist Floyd Domino.

"Norman Hamlett's on the steel guitar and has been for too many years to mention," Haggard notes. "Don Markham's on saxophone, and he's also an old-timer. The rest of them are fairly new, I would imagine, in the last year or two. We have Redd Volkaert on lead guitar. He's the closest to (former Strangers guitarist) Roy Nichols with his tone and his touch and his innovation of anybody I've ever had with me."

Surprisingly, though he's the ultimate decision maker, Haggard leaves much of the responsibility for lining up new members to the band itself.

"I usually let the band hire them," the singer says. "For example, we had Joe Manuel on guitar, and Joe got a better offer to go with Lee Ann Womack. So, I just turned to the boys and said, 'where are we going to find a guitar player?' and they all said 'Redd Volkaert' at the same time. About four of them said the same guy."

"I said well, we'd better check out old Redd Volkaert," he laughs.

Though "If I Could Only Fly" is getting the lion's share of critical attention ­ driven in part by the unusual combination of singer and label ­ it's not the only new Haggard album on the market.

Two other releases, both on his own Hag Records label, show a less familiar side of the singer's work: gospel music.

"We have those at Wal-Mart," he says, "and they'll be there exclusively until the first of the year. There's 'Cabin In The Hills,' which is a gospel album that I did about a year ago, and there's 'Two Old Friends.' That one's by Al Brumley and myself."

Brumley, the son of famed gospel songwriter Albert E. Brumley, is, Haggard says, a genuine old friend.

"We've really been friends for close to 40 years. My mother first told me about him. When I was in San Quentin, doing time, she came to see me, and she said 'there's a boy on television that I'm really anxious for you to hear. He's Albert E. Jr., and he's really great.' I went on to agree with her, and when I came home and straightened my life up, I got to know Al, and for years we both lived in Bakersfield, and we both tried contracts with Capitol. He didn't do as well as I did at first. And then somehow or another we decided to ­ I'm not sure how we decided to do this album, it was just 'why don't we do one together.' I love his singing, I'm just truthfully a fan of Al Brumley, and we really are friends. Some people just say that for the albums, but we're buddies. It's a great album."

The CDs were issued on his own label because, Haggard notes, the parameters of the record industry have narrowed over the years.

"We intend to do some things on Hag Records that don't fit with the commercial mainstream, such as gospel, and maybe comedy, things that you don't call commercial. It used to be, you know, you could express your feelings about religion on a commercial album. You might have something to indicate your beliefs or whatever, but now things are so strictly categorized ­ you've got to be in the right corner of the store, and you've got to have it played on a station that programs only that kind of music ­ that you've got to have everything in its proper place or they won't even consider it."

"We've got really a lot of product out there," he concludes with a chuckle, "and we're just trying to let people know that they all are current within the last 24 months or so. We're proud of them, but we may have too many things on the market."

Yet though he's been forced to find new channels through which to reach his audience, and though he's disheartened at the state of country radio these days ­ "you know, the only thing that I hear once in a while that I slightly like is the Dixie Chicks," he laughs, "and then you have a bunch of them that all sound alike" ­ Haggard shies away from bringing that viewpoint into his music.

"I've got a song laying here in front of me that George Jones wants me to record with him, the day after tomorrow," Haggard says. "It's called "Still Got Songs To Sing," and it says ­ this is supposed to be me singing ­ 'he was here before Elvis, he survived the Beatles and the disco craze, and he lived through the Urban Cowboy, but this one's gonna put us in the grave.' Well, I don't want to record that. I'm not really bitching about anything, and I'm going to talk to George about it and get him to do something else. I don't think George needs to be bitching with a great voice like that. He just needs to sing."

In the end, it seems that's what Merle Haggard needs to do as well. The grueling pace of touring he's undertaken is uncharacteristic of a man of his age and accomplishments ­ given his musical stature, The Hag should be playing in the most prestigious and comfortable venues in the country, rather than the roadhouses, casinos and auditoriums that make up the list of his showdates ­ but Merle Haggard's creative drive seems as forceful as ever.

And if the lined, careworn face that gazes out from the cover of "If I Could Only Fly" reflects a life that's had more than its share of ups and downs, it's also one that reflects an unflagging fidelity to the belief that a simple song, sung with skill and conviction, has the power to affect our lives.

"That old fishing pole looks better everyday," he sings on "Leavin's Getting Harder," but it's not quite time to pick it up and leave the rest behind. Merle Haggard still has some things to say.