Oakley Hall's powered by the soaring harmonies of Sullivan and female foil Rachel Cox, calling to mind John Doe and Exene Cervenka of X during their country-punk heyday. Guitarist Fred Wallace tears off six-string runs worthy of Crazy Horse, and Claudia Mogel's fiddle adds an old-school Appalachian vibe to the occasional banjo, lap-steel, and saloon-piano accents. But this is no retro museum piece; Oakley Hall's songs pulse with menace or liquored-up campfire joy. Sullivan's lyrics dissect modern relationships with scalpel-like insight -- "you're cutting loose/I'm getting tight/I'm going down in a blaze tonight" -- made all the more powerful for their elemental nature. Oakley Hall's an adrenaline shot to the comatose body of country rock, a bracing antidote to the legions of stale Americana acts.