Cory Branan

Cory Branan is quick to own up to his influences, which somehow makes the leap from his death-metal/Black Sabbath-cover-band beginnings to his wide-eyed discovery of Leonard Cohen seem logical. Take the attitude of the former with the contemplative regard of the latter, and Branan’s work makes perfect sense. The real question is how the 27-year-old Memphis, Tennessee, upstart covered such a drastic distance in such a short period of time.

Driven by determination and screw-it-all abandon, Branan’s lyrics cut to the quick. There’s usually a girl involved, with heartache, desperation and regret following close behind her. If the formula sounds tiring, it is — but for all the right reasons. Now I’m whistling Dixie, spittin’ teeth, Branan whispers in “Love Song 8.” I can’t shed this skin she’s underneath.

There’s little doubt that Branan’s confessional songwriting style and brash delivery will conjure images of John Prine and Ryan Adams. But if the shoe fits, Branan will hit listeners over the head with it until they understand that it’s his to wear.