Raised in Missouri, Leslie Stevens has spent her professional life in Los Angeles fronting a country rock band. Much loved by LA’s Americana crowd, and with a couple of decent albums to her name, she seemed perpetually on the verge of a breakout that never quite arrived. After a few years below the radar – motherhood will do that – Stevens has re-emerged with an album that should establish her credentials as a singer-songwriter of skill and passion. Not everyone will love her voice – effortlessly melodic, though with a pinch of Joanna Newsom-style squeakiness involved – but Sinner, burnished by producer Jonathan Wilson with strands of steel guitar and even Mellotron, packs a potent emotional punch. At its centre are a cluster of songs about a burned-out affair: a pair of forlorn country ballads in Falling and Sinner, and Depression, Descent, the devastated reflections of which are belied by its catchy, soft rock style. Stevens is strong on narrative: Teen Bride laments a young woman pregnant with “a baby that would never live to see Missouri”, while The Tillman Song honours a former NFL athlete killed by friendly fire in Afghanistan. For a self-styled purveyor of “cosmic country”, Stevens proves admirably grounded.