Perhaps wanting to outdo American musician St Vincent, who waited until her fourth album before bestowing an eponymous title, Scottish folk troubadour Alasdair Roberts has let seven solo albums go by before doing the same.

So is this him saying he's finally found his voice? Unlikely. Roberts has long swung between albums of traditional and self-penned material, some pared back, others rich in contributions from fellow musicians. But on none would the listener have questioned his sense of who he is and where he's headed. Perhaps, then, the title indicates "breakthrough album". Let's hope so, because this humble colossus of the Scottish alternative folk scene deserves wider recognition. You probably have to see him live to really appreciate his musicality, though it's clear from his picking and from the interplay between guitar and voice that he's edging ever closer to Dick Gaughan-style virtuosity. But as ever it's not the playing or the (slightly reedy) voice that stands out, but the lyrics. Whether mining traditional terms and motifs, as on In Dispraise Of Hunger, or delving into dark, psychological territory on the bewitching Honour Song, there can be few better composers of narrative song.