I got one foot on Jacob's Ladder and one foot in the fire," croons Johnny Cash dryly on the soundtrack to the new Tim Robbins movie, Dead Man Walking. Cash's dilemma sums up what's to follow – 12 original songs by artists such as Patti Smith, Eddie Vedder and Bruce Springsteen that explore the emotional, spiritual and moral tug of war surrounding the plight of a death-row inmate and his victims' families. This album is incredibly intense and moving, and just as Robbins was moved to make the film, the album's artists were inspired by the true story of Sister Helen Prejean and her experience counseling convicted murderer and rapist Matthew Poncelet.

Dead Man Walking takes its name from the death-row term used to describe an inmate's walk to the execution chamber. Although the album touches on the volatile issue of capital punishment, it doesn't push a staunch political agenda or slap down any harsh moral judgments regarding the rights or wrongs of the act itself. Instead, most of the songs reflect the reality that there is no clear-cut answer inside the honest soul regarding death as a means of retribution, but rather there are only personal and individual perceptions. In other words, it's coldhearted to subscribe to the eye-for-an-eye notion, but it's also nearly impossible to forget the victim's pain. These songs explore gray areas – from grief to revenge to love to forgiveness – where logic doesn't really apply, and end up illuminating something called faith.

A duet between the Pakistani singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (who is said by many to have the world's best voice) and Pearl Jam's Eddie Vedder soars to pristine spiritual heights in the mantra-like "Face of Love." Over droning harmonium and rhythmic tablas, Khan's cries pierce the heavens as Vedder responds with low, guttural mumbles that search the recesses of mortal strength. Their uplifting harmonies fly like the freed human spirit over a gruesome and cruel scene here on earth. This song is unparalleled in its pure expression of raw spirituality, and it is also the best thing Vedder has ever done.

Khan and Vedder offer duets here, but the subject matter of Dead Man Walking creates almost as strong a bond between the album's other solo artists such as Michelle Shocked, Tom Waits and Lyle Lovett. Rather than picking these contributors for cool credibility – like Trent Reznor for the Oliver Stone travesty Natural Born Killers (a film score that was impressive but empty) or the grab bag of alternative bands for The Crow soundtrack – Robbins chose artists who could connect through compassion and insight. Although most of Dead Man's numbers are not heard during the movie, they tell a story by referring to specific scenes in the film and, more important, by casting a net of feelings and emotions that are seamlessly interwoven. As a result, the album stands strongly without the listener's having to see the film.

Springsteen's short title track is as lonely and desolate as a sin-filled soul. In this spare acoustic number he raspily whispers his words from the killer's perspective: "Once I had a job and girl, but between our dreams and actions lies this world." His tone is defeated, but he doesn't call for mercy. Instead, it's as though he's talking to himself, trying to figure out what went wrong. This song is so gracefully tragic, even those repelled by Springsteen's position as the Boss should identify with it.

Steve Earle's acoustic "Ellis Unit One" comes from the point of view of a man who – like his dad and uncles before him – took on a job as a prison guard and was eventually promoted to death row. The country-tinged tune trudges along quietly as Earle hits with heavy-duty imagery of the character's work duties. "I helped drag them when they cannot stand," Earle drawls. "I heard their mama's cry when the big door slammed and saw the victim's family holding hands."

The dark and minimal "Walkin Blind," by Patti Smith, features pained moans that sound as though they're coming from a damp dungeon or even a shallow grave, while Suzanne Vega's industrial and grinding "Woman on the Tier (I'll See You Through)" bristles with cold intensity. Vega deadpans her words with an intentional lack of compassion, and like Smith's, Vega's lyrics are indecipherable, yet their tone is haunting. There's really only one relatively weak song here – Mary Chapin Carpenter's "Dead Man Walking (A Dream Like This)" – which is too lightweight up against the other strong and edgy material.

The closing track, another duet by Khan and Vedder, called "The Long Road," does not neatly cap the album but leaves it as wide open as the concept of death and redemption itself. "There's no need to say goodbye," sings Vedder. "All the memories go round and round and round." You may be able to clear the lump in your throat by the soundtrack's end, but Dead Man Walking will haunt you long after the music stops. (RS 726)

LORRAINE ALI