If you’re a musician and you learn a song, making it your own over time, the work eventually becomes something wholly different than what it began as. I won’t pretend to be any where near the (whatever) league that Jack Rose is in, but the guitarist has been known to rework a single melody countless times, live and on record. Considering his solo work is all instrumental, it’d probably be kinda difficult to notice. But regardless of that, there’s no fault in working in that mode – after all how many old tyme blues players re-recorded their entire catalogs after being re-discovered during the ‘60s?

Having first made a name for himself with an avant leaning combo called Pelt, Rose set out to working in his dusty and dated guitar mode. That’s not to say that his playing isn’t original or thoughtful, but there are a number of clear antecedents, despite the fact that Ben Chasney has figured that Rose is the first guitarist in a long time with something original to say. Chasney may not be incorrect, but taking a listen to any recording from Rose immediately reveals the debt that the guitarist owes to John Fahey. And while most acoustic guitar pickers at this late date might be embroiled in similar influences, there’s more than a passing and haunting similarity here.

The consistent and varied release schedule of Rose works to align him with Fahey as well. But beyond the shower of releases that have been levied on the record buying public over the last decade, the overwhelming darkness inherent in Rose’s playing seems to have reached a creepy peak on his latest effort The Black Dirt Sessions, which has already come and gone from the shelves.

On a reworked track entitled “Box of Pine,” which is obviously a coffin reference, Rose slyly moves in and out of tempos while tickling what sounds like a million strings at once. The dour overtone to not just this track, but the entirety of the album might not appeal to every acoustic music enthusiast, but the dexterity with which Rose composes and executes each offering should convert a few non-believers.

The short album, comprised of just six songs and coming in at around a half an hour, still holds a good deal of improvised sections – or it can be assumed after a listen. Setting Rose in similar territory as one time touring partner (Peter Walker), this guitarist combines country blues and some downer folk tendencies amidst his winding explorations of the themes that he’s concocted. At times, songs might end up seeming like endless dissections of a few simple notes – the album’s closer “The World Has Let Me Down,” perhaps. But in these workouts, Rose is actively looking for something. It might not be musically, or even relatable to another person. But just like those old tyme blues ramblers, there’s something inside of Rose spurring him forward and making him walk towards yet another crossroads.

At this point in his recorded career, there might not be too much stylistic derivation, but what Rose is able to flesh out is still astounding and beautiful in a very earthy way.