Joe Pernice's second solo album in under six months, Big Tobacco picks up where February's Chappaquiddick Skyline left off, supplying a sumptuous blend of languid, melodic music with dark tales of quiet despair and lonesome longing.

The pleasant Americana of the music is Pernice's stock-in-trade, a warm country sound augmented by baritone guitars, electric pianos and mandolins, but lyric-writing is still his strongest suit, with couplets of jaw-dropping cleverness and stinging poignancy in abundance.

A preoccupation with the use and abuse of medication to numb the pain is evident in many a song, i.e. 'Prince Valium', 'The Pill' and 'Hard To Take' - "Every pill went down kicking, but each one found a friend."

While most tracks appear to take a painfully personal approach ('I Still Can't Say Her Name', 'I Break Down') some employ characters to impart the narrative, like the lost and broken example of humanity in 'Bum Leg' - "I got this scar above my eye from a dirty little shit who tried to love me underneath the bridge. I broke a bottle on his ear."

Big Tobacco's brand of satisfying sorrow may not be particularly glamorous, but it's beautiful just the same.