Richard Hawley’s stomping grounds don’t feature much in the way of stomping. Instead, the calm, collected, even romantic notions emanating from the serene shores of Hawley’s musical mind keep playing, even if few seem to catch on. It’s a mindset that seemingly protects the music from the dangers of commercialism and keeps the artist and fans involved quite happy.

Yet it’s also a shame since the critically lauded songwriter’s been on a roll rarely found these days. Every release of Hawley’s over the last decade merited much more attention than it received and, in particular, the last three were among that year’s best albums. Coles Corner, Lady’s Bridge and Truelove’s Gutter all deserved a larger and longer-lasting spotlight, but that’s part of the identity (and beauty) of a musical gem like Hawley.

The guitarist’s latest EP, False Lights from the Land, isn’t so much a vehicle for new tunes as it is a spotlight shining back toward last fall’s stunning release of Truelove’s Gutter. Of the four songs here, the highlight is ‘Remorse Code,’ one of two long players from Gutter. Nearly ten minutes in length, its pacing resembles a nighttime coastal drive while Hawley’s Johnny Cash-meets-Matt Berninger vocal takes control of the wheel. The song’s inclusion seems to shine a “don’t forget me” signal in the sky of the digital musical age.

The middle ground of the EP utilizes Hawley’s newer musical relationship with the Smoke Fairies, an impressive blues-folk duo that contributes vocal work on both ‘Shallow Brown’ and “The Ellan Vannin Tragedy.” The two songs are immediately the most interesting and striking found within. ‘Shallow Brown’ is an old sea shanty with varied lyrics over time, but Hawley’s inclusion is wise for its varied sound and relational tone of a sailor setting off from his love. ‘The Ellan Vannin Tragedy’ spins Hughie Jones’ folk song darker still with beautiful cello work backing the story of an old shipwreck.

The last of False Lights of the Land’s four tracks is the only new and original Hawley offering entitled ‘The Storm.’ It’s a days gone by tune marked by ocean side guitar tones and strums set to a ‘50s pop groove, a quirky move given the morose subject matter. Hawley croons along to a summery song, muttering, “There’s a heart that’s breaking / I think it’s mine / There’s a storm a-comin’ / You better run, boy, run.” The combination exists well in the tension and closes things on a wistful note, a reminder to not go back to the beginning of this EP but to replay Gutter in its entirety.