Ruthie Collins wrote the bulk of her second album Cold Comfort after a particularly painful breakup, then proceeded to work in seclusion with producer/guitarist Wes Harllee to get the heart of the album in place. These working situations resulted in a purposefully quiet, contemplative album, but one that isn't necessarily spare. A good portion of Cold Comfort is dressed in strings and steel guitars, occasionally buttressed by guitars whose twang is as wide as the western skies. In this hushed yet cinematic setting, Collins' sweet, high voice doesn't sound thin, it sounds quivering and human, an empathetic center that holds the songs together. Although the album isn't devoid of fast songs, Cold Comfort moves at such a deliberate pace it has a melancholy air, yet it doesn't quite feel sad. Chalk that up to the simple, sturdy construction of the songs and the plaintive undercurrent in Collins' voice, qualities that help Cold Comfort seem grounded and affecting.