Never mind expressions about old dogs and new tricks; Boston's Natalie Flanagan didn't even start playing 'til her late twenties. Let literally sounds like years spent working odd jobs, drinking pints in the evenings and going home to write in a journal. Flanagan's low-pitched speak-singing style has drawn comparisons to Bob Dylan and Lou Reed and her music is firmly rooted in the intelligent, bluesy folk of that era, but David Minehan's production is what really makes it come alive; Let remains intimate whether Flanagan plays stripped-down or in full-band mode. "Grace Under Pressure" is based on little more than a rhythmically-strummed acoustic guitar and a shaker, with subdued electric noodling and rough, breathy vocals on top. It's spare but ample, and Flanagan sounds like she's in the room with you... or rather, like you're in the room with her, breathing cigarette smoke and the smell of old beer, but without the shitty sound system. Later in the album the music fills out quite a bit, with pianos, organs and a prominent backup band; "Patience" features plonky piano sharing space with blues-rock guitar, chugging along underneath Flanagan's smoky "Maybe tonight you could just keep me company".

The lyrics drift between first- and third-person, narrative and personal, blending storytelling with emotion. They can be wrenching, as in "Long Live the King" ("I can't sit around and watch you go south / With no one to hold my hand at the cemetery"), or wry ("You tell me I'd feel better / If I could tidy up this joint / Then I look around me / I think, what could be your point?" from "In This Way"). Flanagan's singing adjusts to her subject matter, sounding choked up when the words are at their most melancholy, steady when she's offering strength. The only track that doesn't quite go with the rest is "That's the Way", written and partially sung by guitarist Dennis Roach. Roach's rather anxious vocals clash with Flanagan's languid breathiness, and the song seems overly simplistic next to the others.

But every album needs a barroom sing-along, and Let is definitely drinkin' music -- not the insipid folk/blues I admit I expected from the CD cover and title. It lays bare the rawest of feelings in a polished way, without diluting the songs' power. Between her genuine, well-written songs and having good help in the control booth, Natalie Flanagan has made a quietly great album.