For what is ostensibly the final chapter in an arguably infertile career, the mercurial Lafayette, LA songwriter, J Burton, has returned to his starting point and offers up songs that honor the precepts of modern Americana, but yield to minimalistic production, and fearlessly flaunt their lo fi velveteen hum. For all his singing about light and fire, J Burton is most comfortable in darkness. He’s a long-suffering songwriter with a knack for a pessimist’s nostalgia, preferring to cast the amber of the past as faded glory. Burton cribbed his artistic cues from years living in the fallout era of post-R.E.M. Athens, Ga., picking through the ashes of the southern American underground to find the scribblings of obscured legends like Pylon and The dB’s. Grand Nathaniel begins in the 1990s and works backwards, traveling from Athens up the East Coast on a reverse musical timeline, taking in the post-hardcore, prog positivity of DIY Washington D.C. (Trans Am) and the chipped-tooth chic of disco punk New York City (ESG, Liquid Liquid).