On his sixth set of musical postcards from the edge of heartbreak, wandering troubadour Josh Rouse continues to accessorize his starkly confessional roots songcraft with the lushly textured, soulful indie-pop of his last disc, 1972.

As you'd figure from a disc slugged Nashville, he decorates it now and then with some shimmery pedal steel guitars and twangy licks.

But he still sounds way more like Westerberg and Wilco than a Waylon wannabe.