To get a bead on In These Silent Days, the new album by Brandi Carlile, it may help to compare it to an LP that came out 50 years before it: Joni Mitchell’s era-defining and massively influential Blue. Carlile has had Mitchell’s classic work on her mind a lot in recent years. She spearheaded an L.A. concert devoted to Blue in 2019 (she has another planned for Nov. 6 at New York’s Carnegie Hall). Last June, she discussed the album’s place in her domestic life on NPR’s “All Songs Considered.” “It’s just one of those things where it’s on constant rotation in our house and makes us feel good. … It’s such a soundtrack and a narrative of our life, our family,” she said.

Given its pervasive presence in her home and work—and the fact that she and Mitchell are close friends now—it’s probably inevitable that some of Blue would seep into Carlile’s own music. In the case of In These Silent Days, you can hear this in the arrangements, which are dominated by piano and acoustic guitar, and the spacious production. Most crucially, you can hear it in her vocals, which have lost their rough edges but not their rafter-shaking power.

In These Silent Days may not be as great as Blue—very few albums are—but it shouldn’t disappoint fans of Brandi Carlile. With her voice in better shape than ever and her heart still firmly on her sleeve, it should help her win even more people over.

The album opens with lead single “Right On Time,” a yearning, luminous ballad about trying to mend a broken relationship. The track shows just how skillful a singer Carlile has become: She shifts effortlessly between wavery murmur, fluttery falsetto and stratospheric roar. Returning producers Dave Cobb and Shooter Jennings frame this career-best vocal with subtle layers of electric guitar, organ and strings. The final product is so majestic that it calls to mind another great 1971 track, The Rolling Stones’ “Moonlight Mile.”

Next up is “You and Me on the Rock,” whose interweaving acoustic guitars and aching, quavery vocal have Mitchell written all over them. However, the lyrics’ wholehearted embrace of domestic stability is all Brandi Carlile. Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig from Lucius (Carlile’s friends and touring mates) add pristine harmonies that evoke clear skies, pine trees and sparkling waters.

“This Time Tomorrow” offers steadfast support to a fellow wayfaring stranger (“You know I may not be around this time tomorrow/ But I’ll always be with you”). The close harmonies of Carlile and longtime bandmates Tim and Phil Hanseroth underline the song’s message of fellowship. Meanwhile, Shooter Jennings’ synthesizer hovers softly in the background like a guardian angel.

Carlile switches to twangy rocker mode on “Broken Horses,” which feels strangely muted after the three previous tracks. Still, Tim Hanseroth’s guitar playing has a suitably Allman Brothers feel, and Carlile reminds listeners that she can still wail when she feels like it. Some of the lyrics’ metaphors might be a little hard for newcomers to follow, but their meaning becomes clear enough after a quick read-up on her troubled upbringing (the song shares its title with Carlile’s bestselling memoir).

Carlile breaks out the piano again on “Letter To The Past,” which offers a helping hand to someone whose own hands might be a little too full (“Folks are gonna lean on you and leave when the cracks appear/ But darling I’ll be here”). On “Mama Werewolf,” Carlile hopes to prove Philip Larkin wrong with her own kids and asks them to be “my silver bullet in the gun” if she proves him right. “When You’re Wrong” mourns for a friend stuck in an abusive relationship. Lines like “You’re sweeping up the floods and you’ve been vacuuming the fires” should hit home for anyone who’s been in the same situation. Carlile’s spooky wail-howl at the end covers anything that her lyrics might have left out.

“Stay Gentle” lightens the mood with its lullaby tune and unambiguous title message. Carlile tries rocking out one more time on the dourly thunderous “Sinners Saints & Fools.” Its condemnation of those who oppose immigration could have been written a bit sharper, but her shriek and Tim Hansenroth’s guitars help it connect anyway.

Carlile closes In These Silent Days with “Throwing Good After Bad,” a gently merciless goodbye to a soon-to-be ex. Her lyrics are so clear-eyed and her singing so affectionate that they prove the ex’s unworthiness all by themselves. Joni Mitchell would be proud.

Follow reporter Ben Schultz at Instagram.com/benjamin.schultz1.