The blood coursing through the arteries of The Winters is one part Leonard Cohen, one part The Band and two parts picaresque rural, a kind of Liffeyside counter to Cowboy Junkies. Anchored by ex-Dixons founder Ed McGinley and Lorraine McColgan, The Winters have already proven themselves on the live front. Their debut is full of wide-open vistas and a cinematic darkness worthy of Paris, Texas, particularly on the title track. The album pirouettes with the quiet confidence of players who plan to hang around longer than the time it takes to download an MP3 file. With lyrical preoccupations that stretch from emotional isolation to that regret-tinged, elusive thing called lurve, and a radio-friendly standout in Starlight Song, all The Winters need now is a cockier hand at the mixing desk to ramp up their amps all the way to 11.