Opening with crickets and birds chirping, William Elliott Whitmore attempts to set Field Songs apart from previous efforts. Magnificent sparseness reigned 2005’s Ashes to Dust — which famously opened with his impossibly gravelly voice carrying processions sans musical accompaniment — while bluesy, everyman-politics defined Songs of the Blackbird. Opening with green noise, it would seem, should signal a departure.

But the more things change, the more they stay the same. His Iowan farm roots, his fixation on death and his impossibly aged voice — can we call it vocal progeria? — have always been Whitmore hallmarks, and accordingly, this could slot in anywhere in his canon. Still, where Blackbird sprawled, Field Songs lures with its warm intimacy. Along with the peaceful ambience of its outdoor sound effects, the album pairs Whitmore with only his guitar or banjo. In fact, if he hadn’t mentioned “Paris in ’43” in “Let’s do Something Impossible,” this feels like it might’ve never left its perch along an Iowa brook. The rustic motif continues with “We’ll Carry On,” perhaps the companion track to “There’s Hope for You,” a eulogy for an unnamed departed friend.

These are all familiar concepts, of course, and Whitmore has whittled simplicity to a science — after all, his stunning vocals tell more stories than his lyrics ever did. These are serviceable tracks, but here, Whitmore barely leaves his comfort zone — which makes Field Songs a fine offering, but hardly a progressive one. Established fans will find plenty to like, but newcomers could find a more thrilling entry point.