On “Teeth Marks,” the title track of her second album, the Kentucky singer-songwriter S.G. Goodman caterwauls into a cavern of reverb so high and lonely it seems to go on forever. Her voice is wry, with a hint of barroom scrape in her lower register, but when she sends it spiraling towards the track’s vaulted ceiling, mingling with the trembling guitar, she sounds less like a singer than a beacon. Her opening couplet places one urgent hand on your forearm—“Well, I laughed a bit when you pulled that card/Telling me you’re gonna bless me heart, well it is/Oh, it already is”—and holds you in place from there. She echoes singers like Jim James, Kurt Vile, and Roy Orbison—who could make your nerves wince with the force of their melancholy.