Like a modern-day Woody Guthrie, Foghorns frontman Bart Cameron has traveled all over this wide world, singing folk songs while meandering ever westward toward the region to which the folk music he plays can trace its roots. Last year, Cameron came to Seattle, added a couple locals to the band’s roster and wasted no time putting out a fifth album on weensy Wisconsin label Beefy Beef Records. The Foghorns’ recorded incarnation features minimalist, introspective strumming, judicious use of twang and a languid pace. New Foghorn Katie Quigley serves as Bart Cameron’s vocal echo, which lends a ghostly, somber feel to the music, doubling the emotional wallop of Cameron’s lovelorn lyrics. But this isn’t happy-go-lucky jug band music; by and large, these are woeful songs about the hard times. It makes sense, then, that Cameron tends to favor locales where the winters are dark, damp and cruel. His is not music to dance to. His is the kind of music you put on at the end of the party, just as the last few people are stumbling out the door, someone’s puking from accidentally drinking a big gulp from a can filled with cigarette butts, and you’re the last person up but can’t go to bed because your most lascivious friend is getting laid in your room…even though it’s your birthday. Sometimes, there’s nothing but the music to comfort you – and that’s why bands like this are so very necessary. With Product of Mexico, Proud Wonderful Me. SARA BRICKNER

Thu., Dec. 3, 9 p.m., 2009