The Dutchess & The Duke: Sunrise / Sunset

A wise man named Alexander LaVelle Harris once succinctly described the main draw of country music: "the music of pain".

This should surely apply to folk also, since every morsel of Sunrise/Sunset is marinated in heartache, malady and torment. We're talking almost Johnny Cash proportions here.

Cash would be a good mark of comparison come the close of the album. Echoing the delivery of the great man, "The River" with its first-person post-mortem narrative, raises the bar of all that has come before. "I went down to the river / I jumped right in, I drowned / But there was no one to see me / So I was never found / Nobody to come and call out my name / To drag my body to the ground / And that's how I always remember that day." It's surprising how relatable inner-turmoil becomes when put so eloquently and yet so morbidly as this.

Immediately preceding, the other half of the duo - Kimberly Morrison - gets her own tour de force on "When You Leave Me Arms" as she spins a story of a broken-hearted woman on the wrong end of an extra-marital affair, yet rather than give way to anger, she pleads with the man, placing stock in her love to overcome the indiscretions, if only they were to come to a stop. Beneath this tragic, yet age-old tale, the previous lo-fi nature of the band is thrown to the vultures and bellowing percussion and strings propel the narrative to gigantic proportions. Suffice to say, it is one of the greatest moments in folk music since "I Hung My Head" and "Something Vague".

That the closing songs of the album cast such a monolithic shadow over its first two acts could be construed as a curse. Yet the delightfully rambunctious nature of the other eight songs is a cause for celebration, not consternation. We have moments like "I Don't Feel Anything" which roar along with a swinging playfulness in its beat and call-and-response style delivery, as well as the bluesy guitar shreds of opening serenade "Hands".

Keeping things simple in terms of production and song-construction works wonders for an album which seeks only to highlight the simplicity of human emotion. A life tainted by heartbreak and pain. When producer Greg Ashley ramps up the power though, it makes those moments all the more transcendent.