's second solo enterprise verifies the artist as one of those few songwriters who stand between the cracks of time, where he spins a hallucinatory, new universe out of old-world roots. Indeed, there's a real down-home, unpolished luster to , both in execution and in songwriting, that gives it a timeless, old-fashioned pallor. And yet there's also something just slightly off in the songs, a strange, disembodied quality that seems to come at least partly from an ulterior place, be it real or imagined. That attribute is precisely what gives the music such a singular, distinctive sound and vision. comes off like a sort of one-man with nothing but a beat-up guitar and his sepia croak of a voice. His acoustic guitar playing has the kind of impressive, gutsy virtuosity of , while the music is part a la and part deep Appalachian pallidness, with a dash of thrown in via the odd foot stomp or piano run. Musicianship is superb, and as stark as the instrumentation is, there is first and foremost a special quality of songwriting that results in acoustic instrumentals (the drone-like title track, the wistful ) or nearly instrumental ballads (the gauzy, sunlike picking of ). The songs can be unsparing in their desolation, sound-wise if not necessarily in their worldview, although there is certainly a sense of loss present throughout. One gets the feeling, however, that the mood is less a product of a personal feeling than it is a personal perspective of a vanishing era of song, one free of commercial constraint, marketing, or trend. And yet the songs aren't long glances backward so much as they are outgrowths, seedlings from a great old uprooted tree trying to recapture some of the biblical grandeur that has wilted away, some of the lost importance, trying to refill a shadow that's no longer there. The album is a keeper, pure, simple, and unaffected but certainly not unaffecting. ~ Stanton Swihart