The songs were created as a musical counterpoint to Tony Early's novel, Jim the Boy, with the characters singing of their experiences in what Burch cleverly describes as "Shakespearean-like" asides. Unlike a photograph or an old 78 record, there's no loss of fidelity in this nostalgic snapshot. From the raggy lope of "Harvey Hartsell's Farm," with Burch's Nashville Skyline-era Dylan feel, to the gentle back porch blues of "Mama Shoo'd The Blackbirds" or the gospel-inflected "Sun Don't Shine," with its echo of The Carter Family, Last of My Kind has the breadth of a Smithsonian exhibit. More than simply great music, the songs themselves speak with the distinctive voice of their protagonists. "Amos's Blues" bounds with the brash admonitions of a fiery ol' moonshiner, who warns he can "look at bacon and fry it on a plate/Any fool that cross my mountaintop/They're all down the pushing wild daisies up." The title track is perhaps the album's best: a soft-bellied ballad with Burch's downcast tenor rolling over the listener like the Velvet Fog himself. Burch has made a terrific album, one that demonstrates the timelessness of great music.