Tobacco City stomps and swaggers through “Mr. Wine,” the band’s haunting atmospheres wrapped around a roadhouse anthem. The song, about the longing to escape small town life, has its own confining circumstances to slip loose from. Its reassuring cadences of country blues light out for mystery in flights of pedal steel. Its steady pulse of rocking bass pushes on but is overlaid with disorienting slow drips of trebly guitar. The chorus sways and sashays with quavering certainty, but when it’s over, textures turn soft and indefinite and full of ambiguity. This second album from the Chicago cosmic twangers . . .
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