In the 1980s, when I first heard England's Martin Simpson, in common with a lot of naive listeners my immediate impulse was to think of him -- yes, condescendingly -- as the "other Martin," something like a younger version of Martin Carthy, since the 1960s revival a dominating presence on the British folk scene. Long ago, however, Simpson established himself as a fully respected singer and guitarist in the UK, Europe and North America. You could also call the two folk singers of the old school, except for the innovation each brings and for the fact that they don't sound all that much like one another.

Home Recordings, which is exactly what the album amounts to, features Simpson's solo guitar and banjo, plus his marvel of a baritone voice and 14 well-chosen songs and instrumentals. It came into being this past September as he lived restlessly in quarantine from the virus that has changed all our lives.

He usually has a band with him, but here he carries himself along alone. The stark atmospherics that arise from the recording speak to an extraordinary interpretive gift, even on cuts as well-traveled as Dylan's "The Times They Are A-Changin'" and -- especially -- the venerable Child ballad "House Carpenter" (done in a distinctive banjo arrangement) which, as often as I've heard it by everybody from Clarence Ashley to Joan Baez, actually scared me this time around.

There is a riveting reading of Robin Williamson's often-sung "October Song" as well as the late John Prine's "Angel from Montgomery." These are both exceptional numbers in nearly any circumstance or by any artist of reasonable competence, but Simpson's rich approaches call up their respective emotional cores in a way that makes each seem almost freshly conceived.

I was surprised to see Lyle Lovett's "Family Reserve" as the opening cut. I would have sworn I'd be the only one who remembers it, a recitation of cousins, uncles and other relatives who have died in bizarre accidents occasioned by their own inattention, drunkenness or carelessness. It will draw a chuckle out of your throat even when somewhere else in your personal moral universe you understand that this is, in fact, the horror section.

Some originals and traditional numbers, English and American, evoke a range of moods and sounds, each with its own pleasures to share. It'll have you feeling something other than in captivity.