The grandmaster of country-gothic is in the mood for love. The four-letter word has always lurked near the top of Will Oldham's subject matter countdown, but his songwriterly gaze has usually been focused on its physical manifestations, complete with hooves, horns, fur, tails, the whole sticky bonanza. Until now, that is. 'The Letting Go', recorded in Iceland with a knock-out band featuring Dirty Three's percussion dynamo Jim White, tackles fluffy stuff that can only be described as, in the words of Bob Dylan, one of Oldham's most obvious forebears, "singing love's praises with sugar-coated rhyme."

Not an ideal album for anyone recently relocated to Dumpsville, then, but any devotees reaching for the sick bag can stop searching for antidotes to syrup, for the saccharine-free selections here belong amongst Oldham's finest work. The sudden enthusiasm for whispering sweet nothings in his beloved's ear might be just another act from a performer renowned for disguises (of which Bonnie 'Prince' Billy is the longest-serving). Following the sea monsters and nightmarish scenarios of 'Superwolf', last year's superb collaboration with Matt Sweeney, however, it's a breath of fresh air akin to Tom Waits launching into one of his heartbreaking weepers after yet another clattering raid at the junkyard.

The serene music fits the contented mood. There are flashes of the familiar tension and dread, namely the electrifying, epic stomp of 'The Seedling', the hypnotic, dusky sprawl of 'Strange Form Of Life', elevated to even more stratospheric heights of unsettling brilliance by ace guitarist Emmett Kelly, and the bad dream balladry of first single 'Cursed Sleep', but the towering triumvirate of loveliness the album's built around reduces everything around it to a supporting role.

'Love Comes to Me' is the first to drift out of the speakers, a spine-tinglingly pretty, tender ode to the l-word's all-conquering potential, heralded by autumnal strings straight out of 'Bryter Layter' and brilliant performances from Oldham and duet partner Dawn McCarthy, who provides a high-pitched counterpoint to Oldham's close-miked, soft-purr cooing on most of these 12 songs. The alluring 'Lay And Love' is even better, a smitten litany of generous praise to a partner delivered in tones of choked-up yearning, its intimate, warm glow anchored by a murky web of subterranean rhythm rumble. 'I Called You Back' closes the proceedings with a lingering declaration of devotion set to a sparse thud and strained larynxes worthy of prime Neil Young. Elsewhere, 'Cold & Wet' borrows the bluesy formula of early-60's folk revival to fine effect and 'No Bad News' revisits Dylan's 'The Wicked Messenger' with added dosages of bucolic charm, whilst 'Wai' and 'Big Friday' are set to melodies elemental enough to have emerged from the lutes of medieval minstrels.

Full of tenderness, vulnerability and lavish orchestrations, not to mention pure, unadulterated beauty, 'The Letting Go' is a gentle triumph that defies the widely-held belief that only woe, misery and trampled hearts translate to songwriting of substance.