New York songwriter Care Bursons second album begins with electrified turbulence, passes through wide-awake freedom, and emerges on the edge of an unmarked town stripped of nearly everything but her voice and her emotions. While the trend in singer-songwriters of the indie-rock persuasion is toward naivete and pre-teen vocalizing, Burson sings like a grown soul, aware of the repercussions of her choices. Beat Of Leaves churns like PJ Harvey, the title track works a psychedelic hurdy-gurdy and multi-tracked vocals to recall a less bitter time when you and I were better than this, and the gorgeous, piano-dappled Let Me Lose Me sounds like a more ambitious, though less budgeted, Norah Jones reverie. Her spare reverb and banjo take on These Boots Are Made For Walking just sounds like a threat. Burson is aware of the primary force of melody; if not always rhythm; these nine songs find the precarious balance between stormy arrangements and stormier reflections.