Tony Bennett fans (or detractors, for that matter) should be advised that Richard Hawley is not exactly following in his footsteps. There might be some similarities but what binds them together is timelessness. The delicate, crooning, classicist pop of Hawley sounds as if it has existed for decades. Even the album artwork is retro; a bespectacled Hawley casually seated on a leather chair in a smoking jacket; a vintage guitar leaned against him.

The standout tracks begin with the "water trilogy" of "Roll River Roll," "The Sea Calls," and "Lady's Bridge." Liquid guitars, brushed percussion, and lightly plucked piano create sonic currents of beauty. "Our Darkness" has a horn and string arrangement that would make Sir George Martin proud.  Hawley's tender croon is adorned with some lovely backing vocals on the album closer "The Sun Refused To Shine."

What makes the album work beyond the sheer beauty and coolness of it is Hawley's sense of musical balance. He writes with an incisiveness most commonly associated with the best singer/songwriters but without the baggage of insufferable earnestness or indulgent wordplay and overused metaphors. The sounds are bright and the arrangements lush without bombast. This is a romantic record without the saccharine and a companion for the "dark night of the soul" without the overbearing despair. Subtleties and nuances abound on each track and that is where Lady's Bridge draws its power.

Day after day I become more and more convinced that the problem with the music business isn't the music, it's the business.  Great records — timeless records — are still being made.  It's a sad state of affairs when a room full of Ivy League graduates can't figure out a way to make money selling something people already want: good music.  Richard Hawley's records don't stand a chance in today's marketplace.  Welcome to the perverse world where that's a compliment, not an insult.