H.G. Breland is one of those seasoned music-business vets you’ve never heard of, a roots-rocker from the Mississippi Delta who made the scene on both coasts in the very unfolky ’70s without ever breaking out.

But it’s just seasoned him to perfection—not only does he possess a big, booming baritone that variously evokes The Man in Black, Hootie, and mostly an even sturdier version of Kingston Trio vet John Stewart, but the sound and sweep of his rock is almost Springsteenian in its big brush strokes. (Guests John Fohl and Irene Sage help in that department.)

Add in the workingman ethos he put to good use on 2011’s union anthem “The Backbone,” and you have the makings of a major talent just about to ripen.

Lyrically, he’s not quite there yet, not because his tales of love and loss are dishonest, but just because they’re a little familiar.

“Three Little Words” is about exactly what phrase you’d imagine, and his “For John Prine” is more of a name-dropping exercise than a tribute to the master.

But in the middle of it all, he lets himself tap into his anger, and it lights up the same righteous streak he sported in “Backbone.” Suddenly it all clicks, and the beautifully grandiose sound of his backing tracks gives his vocals that last little push over the top.

“Witch” and “Through With You” may not be openhearted, as their titles suggest, but they certainly feel real.

And God knows there’s enough for a working-class troubadour to be angry about out there these days.