Ken Tucker

Pomeroy has just released an album called Cruel Joke. She's from Oklahoma, a Cherokee Native American, and her songs about farms and cowboys, sung with an acoustic country twang, mark her as one smart high plains drifter.

Broke you like a mirror into pieces A few of me staring back in disbelief Honey, I swear I didn't mean to. Never love someone like I loved you. Playing a little cowboy, put your hand in mine. I'd get lost for days in your green eyes.

Broke you like a mirror into pieces A few of me staring back in disbelief Honey, I swear I didn't mean to. Never love someone like I loved you. Playing a little cowboy, put your hand in mine. I'd get lost for days in your green eyes.

Broke you like a mirror into pieces A few of me staring back in disbelief Honey, I swear I didn't mean to. Never love someone like I loved you. Playing a little cowboy, put your hand in mine. I'd get lost for days in your green eyes.

In that song, Flannel Cowboy, Pomeroy seeks forgiveness from someone she wronged, in no small part because she believes they were meant to be together. It's typical of her approach on this album, which is full of complex emotions and urgent desires. Her narrators don't want to become isolated. They're not loners.

In that song, Flannel Cowboy, Pomeroy seeks forgiveness from someone she wronged, in no small part because she believes they were meant to be together. It's typical of her approach on this album, which is full of complex emotions and urgent desires. Her narrators don't want to become isolated. They're not loners.

In that song, Flannel Cowboy, Pomeroy seeks forgiveness from someone she wronged, in no small part because she believes they were meant to be together. It's typical of her approach on this album, which is full of complex emotions and urgent desires. Her narrators don't want to become isolated. They're not loners.

They hope to quell fears through relationships that only strengthen during difficult times.

They hope to quell fears through relationships that only strengthen during difficult times.

They hope to quell fears through relationships that only strengthen during difficult times.

If you're talking too loud, they can hear you way up in the sky. With the days getting darker, coyotes are nine. Time drags on and there's nine. My mother keeps lying saying there's no other way Send me back to where I was

If you're talking too loud, they can hear you way up in the sky. With the days getting darker, coyotes are nine. Time drags on and there's nine. My mother keeps lying saying there's no other way Send me back to where I was

If you're talking too loud, they can hear you way up in the sky. With the days getting darker, coyotes are nine. Time drags on and there's nine. My mother keeps lying saying there's no other way Send me back to where I was

I like the way Pomeroy's plain-spoken verses open up dialogues with the listener. The conversational tone is something Willie Nelson perfected decades ago. It's what's made him perhaps the most intimate pop music interpreter since Frank Sinatra.

I like the way Pomeroy's plain-spoken verses open up dialogues with the listener. The conversational tone is something Willie Nelson perfected decades ago. It's what's made him perhaps the most intimate pop music interpreter since Frank Sinatra.

I like the way Pomeroy's plain-spoken verses open up dialogues with the listener. The conversational tone is something Willie Nelson perfected decades ago. It's what's made him perhaps the most intimate pop music interpreter since Frank Sinatra.

These days, age has shortened his breath and thinned out the timbre of his voice, but it's still a quiet miracle that draws you in close, as on his version of Rodney Crowell's song, What Kind of Love.

These days, age has shortened his breath and thinned out the timbre of his voice, but it's still a quiet miracle that draws you in close, as on his version of Rodney Crowell's song, What Kind of Love.

These days, age has shortened his breath and thinned out the timbre of his voice, but it's still a quiet miracle that draws you in close, as on his version of Rodney Crowell's song, What Kind of Love.

In the past, Nelson has recorded other album-long salutes to some of his favorite songwriters and singers, such as Ray Price and Roger Miller and Lefty Frizzell. This one feels a little different. The best moments here are when he takes hold of some of Rodney Crowell's more recent songs, not the hits. These are reflective, contemplative compositions.