Tinsley Ellis grew up on Jimi Hendrix and the Allman Brothers Band, among others. By the mid-1980s, Ellis was a darling of Chicago’s Alligator Records, as one of several artists leading a resurgence of the blues on the genre’s best label. Notably, his blistering electric guitar reflected those early influences, as Ellis became a model for a whole new generation discovering Chicago Blues, Delta Blues, and blended concoctions with rock-and-roll.

Now, some 40 years later, Ellis has graduated to an elder statesman of the art form. A greying beard, a greying voice, and self-producing thirteen originals for this Alligator outing that sound torn from some ancient songbook dug out of a muddy riverbank—this is Ellis, today, and his Labor of Love. In what, throughout, sounds like Ellis, alone with his guitar, in an empty room, the veteran bluesman opts for the quiet to do the work; allowing the empty spaces to be as affecting, if not more so, than the electrified volume of his youth.

His approach to the music and lyrics is a throwback, for sure. There are foot-stomps, and bottlenecks sliding on dobros, and a hoodoo woman, and sweet ice tea. Still, this isn’t pastiche, or soggy with clichéd appropriations, as so often efforts like these devolve into in less capable hands. No, Ellis is more than respectful enough, weathered enough, and schooled enough to get it right. He’s singing the blues. The ones he knows.

This is, too, an album of pattern and effect, putting the spell on with a simplicity of instrumentation, arrangement, and message. Sometimes simple is the hardest thing to pull off. Ellis succeeds, as this is simply, and movingly, the blues.