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On “The Hermit Census,” a few cello swells and banjo parts go a long way-concessions to what the neo-ethnics might’ve sneeringly called “city folk.” As the song progresses and Elkington’s lyric follows the guitar down a melodic lane, he suddenly pulls out a series of Brechtian turns that Colin Meloy of the Decemberists might pen if he was a more agile guitarist and less precious songwriter. At the same time, Elkington’s indie pop roots show through everywhere, too, and to great effect.
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The newfound rigor of Elkington’s fingerpicking provides a gravitas that both recalls the seriousness of the traditionalists in the so-called neo-ethnic folk movement of the early 1960s, and connects him to other contemporary fingerpickers. On the traditional instrumental “The Parting Glass,” Elkington’s imagistic playing carries the performance easily. But the spotlight stays on Elkington throughout: his songs, his voice, and his guitar, the latter of which seems to expand on the lyrics with small details and asides. A harmonica passes through (“Sister of Mine”), a pedal steel swells (“Hollow in Your House”), and strings swirl (“My Trade in Sun Tears”). The music is dotted with tasteful arrangement choices. So it’s perhaps little surprise that Wintres Woma arrives with an instant elegance, occasionally akin to Brit-folk godfather Bert Jansch or Thompson, especially on wry, sad songs like “Grief Is Not Coming.” What is a surprise is how skillfully Elkington balances songs and his high-flying fingerpicking.