Since the mid-’90s, Nashville’s Lambchop have casually corrupted familiar genres, bending every style they’ve tacled — country, soul, rock — to the overwhelming gravitational pull of Kurt Wagner’s weary persona and solemn voice. Apart from occasional departures, including the raucous coda of “Popeye,” OH (ohio)‘s languid chamber folk murmurs as expected, with Wagner sketching vivid relationship dramas like a master painter. Should it all sound overly proper, a closer listen reveals sly humor in the details: “Of Raymond,” for one, captures the wistful musings of a garden statue.
