Last year further carried the momentum in the form of a songwriting collaboration with Ms. "1234" - Feist's follow-up, The Reminder (Cherrytree/Interscope/Universal), included the sweetly delivered "Brandy Alexander," a solid favorite amongst many listeners. So, perhaps this newfound surge in attention will help carry the Sexsmith momentum a bit further, now that he has a brand-spanking new album out in the racks? Here's hoping so. His recent Exit Strategy of the Soul is worthy of widespread adoration.

Those who have accompanied Sexsmith on his journey as a singer-songwriter will be pleasantly surprised by a new wrinkle presented on his tenth album: the addition of Cuban musicians. During the recording sessions for Exit Strategy, producer Martin Terefe floated the idea of heading down to Havana to record some horn tracks - and, luckily for listeners, the vocalist said yes. The addition of a horn trio - exquisitely orchestrated by notable arranger Joaquin Betancourt - proved to be a brilliant idea, having dressed up Sexsmith's confessionals with considerably greater warmth and blue-eyed soul.

While there isn't really much here which could be considered Cuban in feel, the disc more than compensates in its immediacy and intimacy. Sure, much of the lyrical content remains on the dark end of the street, but Terefe's thoughtful production - and those delicious horns - casts plenty of bright spots into the shadows, to the point where one will probably forget about the shadows entirely.

Sexsmith sounds more confident than ever, unafraid of letting loose the smooth R&B crooner within, and he meshes easily with the nightclub-evoking horn arrangements and occasional gospelized backing vocals peppered throughout the disc. Explorations into more soulful terrain aren't exactly unknown for the man - 2004's Retriever (Nettwerk), also produced by Terefe, offered such moments - but this newest release does trod the deepest into the turf. Much of it could be called understated soul - and I mean this as a full and unequivocal compliment.

There is a silky, everything-is-cool vibe to the record - even when things, as they sometimes seem to be in Sexsmith's world, are not - which brings to mind the sunny-afternoon contentment of the Style Council, or perhaps more accurately, Bill Withers. His delivery often recalls the easygoing charms of Withers' singer-songwriter soul, and the production here points to the '70s/early '80s more often than not.

"This Is How I Know," with its expressive electric piano and careful horn bursts - meted out in just the perfect doses to accompany Sexsmith's gradual-build delivery - would not feel out of place slotted between Withers and, say, Terry Callier, tracks on the radio. It's a gorgeous testimony to the power of love despite its many obstructions: "From a moment to a sea of days / From an ocean to a single wave / Out of nothing came the miracle / That loved us into being / This is how I know it will be." By the time he exits amid a swirl of horns, raving brightly, "This is how I know it will be," his conviction is tough to miss.

"Brighter Still," an anthemic midtempo number with a blissful introduction which reminds me of the Five Stairsteps' transcendent "O-o-h Child," hammers the Withers comparison even deeper, thanks to what is probably the most carefully restrained but smoothly soulful vocal turn on the album. Listening closely to Sexsmith's hopeful chorus, I can't help but think of Withers' engaging warmth on the indomitable 1977 hit "Lovely Day." Ah, that chorus, crooned out over swaying horns as a tambourine shimmies an insistent pulse: "Like the pale moon before the darkness spills / I know it could be brighter still / On the sea tossed, baby fear not / It'll be brighter still." Maybe not quite as ebullient as Withers was back on his ever-so-optimistic little ditty, but just as spirit-lifting.

"One Last Round" is a swift deceiver, a peppy sing-along about dancing away while the world burns. "And it's the children who have yet to come / who'll have to pay our tab / What kind of world will we have left for them / The odds now will be stacked," Sexsmith ponders as he simultaneously condemns humankind for its inaction in the face of global issues while still joining up with the same ignorance-is-bliss attitude we have all been guilty of indulging from time to time, underneath the enormousness of it all.

"Poor Helpless Dreams" is pure country-soul thump, helped along by the Dixie-gospel build of the titular chorus. And perhaps most movingly of all, Sexsmith reclaims his Feist collab "Brandy Alexander" as a brassy horn-punching showstopper, buoyed along by jubilant piano and pulse-quickening backing vocals from Erin Morin (better known by the recording moniker a Girl Called Eddy). Whereas Feist's version was subdued in its celebration of a bad-ass romantic partner, here the track practically air-punches and keg-kicks in excitement. For all the implied danger of lyrics such as "she's my brandy Alexander, always getting me into trouble," Sexsmith sounds more than happy to run the risk.