This sophomore album finds Pinnell comfortable in his own skin and achieving the redemption only hinted at in his previous batch of haunted songs.

Hailed as a "ming-blowingly good" (Greg Vandy, KEXP) "tutorial on classic country music" (Popmatters), Pinnell's debut immediately differentiated as authentic and unflinching.

If OH/KY was the self-assured introduction of an unconventional new talent, his 2017 album Ties of Blood and Affection presents a canny lateral move.

Instead of doubling down on the stark themes and values of his debut, this sophomore album finds Pinnell finding comfort in his own skin and achieving the redemption only hinted at in his previous batch of haunted songs.

Here Pinnell joyfully embraces the working life, family obligations, and faith. His new stories delve into acceptance and survival, all the while investigating his most challenging chapter yet: adulthood.

While "If life don't get any better / I'm alright with this" isn't an out-right triumph, it's an honest revelation.

Musically, Ties of Blood and Affection also maintains a comfortable and confident stride.

Pinnell's songs are shot through with honest and classic elements; rooted in his steady acoustic guitar, the tunes chug along in a spring-reverb dream from somewhere between, say, 1955 and 1975 - unearthing a sweet secret cache of songs that "Waylon Jennings might have written if he had cut a record with Alex Chilton" (Portland Tribune).

The rhythm section, all snap and shuffle, finds purpose in well-worn paths. The pedal steel and Telecaster stingers arrive perfectly on cue, winking at JP's world-wise couplets .

Here slippery organ insinuates gospel into the conversation. You can feel the room breathe and get a sense of these musicians eyeballing each other as their performances are committed directly to thick analog tape.

And through it all comes this oaken identity, the devastating centerpiece of his work. Honest and careworn, Jeremy's voice can touch on wry, jubilant, and debauched - all in a single line.