Luke Roberts' Big Bells And Dime Songs was undeniably, unashamedly and unequivocally all about driving your red and green splotched 1975 Ford truck on mountainous Montana dirt tracks, drag racing Bozeman trains whilst the Sun shined down on you and the wind reined on your long youthful golden locks, living skint, wild and west at heart on the brittle floors of a land called America.

It was an archaic experience as, like any classic American musician does, Roberts wrote the songs with tales and accounts of his experiences, the many scenarios he encountered and the deep, internal emotions he felt. As the man himself says, "The first record I made has a very homeless or wild-west feel to it." Agreeably, it was a collection of songs written on the road with every intention of grasping his sincerely cherished memories of a childhood encapsulated in Bluegrass and Southern folk in its rawness and, to much critical acclaim, he hit the spot exquisitely. Following its re-release last November, assumptions for his second effort were highly awaiting in anticipation.

A lot has happened in between his debut and his newest release The Iron Gates At Throop And Newport, though. Roberts has grown up. He no longer skitches trains across vast ehcoing valleys or sleeps lonesomely on brittle floors. Beneath all the minimalistic approaches and soothing arrangements, a definite transition has occurred. “This new one is filled with addresses and luxuries. It's a rags to riches story about family and love and faith, where the first one was about not having that stuff. This album is about how hard that stuff is."

While Roberts may no longer travel the road train hopping and free wheeling until the Sun finally sets, his travels continue in his search for philosophical acceptance of himself and the world in which he lives in; he's always had a knack for spinning aged ideas into raw lyrics and, as in stand out track 'His Song', his plucked, sung grumbles reveal his most tangible and personal disposition yet, hopelessly searching for the answers: “The blood of Jesus/ Causes so much pain” - that has been hiding inside him for decades.

Would you believe, then, that the only literal travelling Roberts has done recently is jump on a 800-mile bus journey to Nashville, Tennessee to set to tape Mark Nevers' own take on production of the album. The Iron Gates At Throop And Newport shakes off any familiar live fuzzes and crackles that were heard on 2009's 'T Roberts' and the result is a much cleaner, delicate parcel – 'Spree Wheels' settles Roberts' bruised, languid voice, lightly cloaked in ethereal acoustic plucks and picks that'd surely pay homeage to all country folk, past and present.

Like Noah's vision of the perfect Arc, Roberts' musical attributes are always paired. His newly found inspirations of faith, love and riches come accompanied too. Comparably to Roberts' previous attempts, The Iron Gates At Throop And Newport also sees a great, giant leap in his approach to song writing. Roberts' crackly voice is embedded in far more complex and diversearrangements - the entity of this lying within new additional features in the shape of Billy Contaraz's fiddle and mandolin melodic twiddles as well as a steaming harmonica which makes a truly magnificent array in 'Lost On Leaving', as well as singer buddy Emily Sunblad's backing vocals which softly integrate with the adorning nature in 'Second Place Blues''s country-folk mood.

Sure, The Iron Gates At Throop And Newport can edge on a little mellow at times, and often distinguishing the difference between tracks like 'Spree Wheels' and 'Old Fashioned Woman' - in all its pounding drum muscle exercises and guitar screeching glory that you'd imagine would get Dev Hynes hard - goes beyond mediocre capability, but behind all of the folk-hipster nonsense and melodic criticism lies a pretty square collection of tales of affection, faith – for which I'm sure Drums enthusiasts would certainly resonate with – and family, which, let's be honest, is a pretty tight theme to coincide with. Amidst it all, The Iron Gate At Throop And Newport will, like a bruised plum, exhaust you emotionally, physically and psychologically. Best of luck, we say.