As heard here, Lucinda Williams’ voice seems to be losing shape, a battered piano, muddled at some places, strangely fitting at others, wearing out in its own unique way. Matched with pedal-steel guitars as on “Copenhagen,” the voice bleeds like watercolor, threatening to lose form and wear out the paper. At such points, the words matter more than ever. On this release, we get mixed signals.

Williams has always favored parallel structures. On several of these tracks (the noir blues “To Be Loved”), they refuse to pay off, though the title track conjures up her great songwriter’s spirit—direct, nostalgic, Whitmanesque. Elvis Costello offers up some fierce guitar on “Seeing Black,” and with Don Was at the helm, the album maintains the proper contour and shimmer.

”Soldiers Song” is a stark, line-by-line contrast between life on the battlefield and life back home. War is brutish, but such simple treatment feels like short shrift for the subject and the singer. Then again, ”Ugly Truth” catches that wee-hours conversation when it really doesn’t matter what the person does, you simply want them to do something, cursed though you both are.

At a few points on Blessed, you want Williams to dig the knife in further and push herself past foreboding hints. Then, she closes things with “Kiss Like Your Kiss,” a waltz that sums up years of work and reminds that the night has many turns left.