If you've been reading Splendid for a while, you'll recognize Brian Hall as the man behind Snake Forcefield. We like Snake Forcefield, and have consistently enjoyed Hall's attempts to cloathe Dylanesque folk and Wilsonesque pop in shoegazer-era finery. We've also been curious how Hall, purportedly a folk and bluegrass musician, approaches the more traditional material upon which he apparently cut his musical teeth. Now, thanks to When Maggie Turns To Fly, we can offer further endorsement.

Make no mistake, When Maggie Turns To Fly is straightforward folk/bluegrass material, entirely devoid of Snake Forcefield-style production jiggery-pokery. We're talking twangy guitars, ringing mandolin and banjo, soulful harmonica and matter-of-fact working man vocals. The group's name invokes Carter Stanley, half of the influential Stanley Brothers, but they're not some sort of tribute act. Hall, along with bandmates Mark Dalton and Robin Tolley, simply wants to invoke a level of honesty and emotional depth that's missing from a lot of modern music.

Unlike many of their contemporaries, Carter's Ghost (The band doesn't use the apostrophe in Carter's, but I just can't bring myself to do that. Sorry.) don't seem to think that lo-fi recording is the key to authenticity. It probably wouldn't be hard to make a barn-burning tune like "Sailor's Water" sound like a scratchy old 78RPM record, but instead the music receives rich, loving production, allowing you to enjoy every instrument in the mix. The record isn't over-produced, either. When "The Poor Boy"'s jaunty banjo melody bounces from your speakers, it doesn't sound like it's lodged in some ludicrously over-accentuated, Jeff Lynne-produced state of isolation. It just sounds like a banjo.

Lyrically, the band sticks to the tried and true subject matter: love, mostly. Much contemporary country/alt-country/Americana music tends to take a dark -- if not downright gothic -- approach to affairs of the heart, and while Carter's Ghost tries to offer a more varied outlook, this just isn't a genre known for its happy songs. "She Stayed Young", for instance, doesn't have a particularly cheerful ending, but at least its relentlessly upbeat bluegrass swagger implies a salute to life and youth. "Love Takes Me To Church" is darker, full of moody organ chords and gospel-blues narration...and as you might guess, there's a whole world of trouble brewing for its protagonist. On the other end of the spectrum, "Who Knows Where The Highway Goes," despite the loneliness at its heart, offers an optimistic anthem for the wide-open future.

Carter's Ghost is a harder sell than Snake Forcefield. To an audience eager for new sounds, studio experimentation will usually score more points than spirit and authenticity -- and from that perspective, When Maggie Turns To Fly is a harder album to notice. It plays to a more modest, mature set of expectations, and is a record to listen to when you're more interested in connecting with music than having it knock your socks off.