Thick with both rural twang and urban sophistication, Boston singer/songwriter Patrick Coman combines folky poetry and country-style storytelling on his latest release, Southern Storms. Violin, organ, and a silky lap steel swell under Coman’s weary voice as he laments and introspects with the quiet intensity of Neil Young and the earnest exhaustion of Jeff Tweedy. Moody and rife with meteorological metaphors, the album feels at times like an Elliott Smith ode to isolation, but the monotony breaks with the southern-fried “Nights Like Tonight” and “Fortune Cookie.” The wistful, soft-spoken “Rear-view Mirror (“Why am I lonely on New Year’s Eve?”) brings to mind a “Dressed Up Like Nebraska”-era Josh Rouse while tracks like “Gram Parsons” reveal obvious leanings towards erstwhile Drive-By Truckers frontman Jason Isbell. Patrick Coman’s power as a songwriter lies in his ability to bravely delve into the haunted parts of our ego that grapple with yearning, loneliness, and regret. Without trepidation, he uncovers desperate, self-pitying stones that are instantly and painfully recognizable to anyone who has ever felt unbearably overwhelmed by sorrow and alienation. Perhaps this isn’t the best album for a Sunday drive (unless it’s off a cliff), but when you’re ruminating over a past lover or lost opportunity, no album will feel more right.