For fans of traditional country music, 22-year-old Colter Wall looks and sounds like the real deal. A native of the Saskatchewan prairie, Wall sings in a weathered, world-weary baritone and writes raw, poetic lyrics about tough lives on emotional and literal frontiers, echoing Nashville renegades like Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson, country outlaws like Waylon Jennings, and tortured folkies like Townes Van Zandt. On his riveting full-length eponymous debut album, the spaces are wide open and battered by haunting winds that carry grit and hard revelations. Backed by skeletal acoustic guitar, pedal steel, slippery percussion, and tinkling saloon piano, Wall etches grim tales of murder, codeine nightmares, brawls, traipsing country backroads, existential sorrow, and, on “Transcendent Ramblin’ Railroad Blues,” hopping boxcars while name-checking Woody Guthrie, whose legacy appears secure in Wall’s battered paws. Kentucky folkie Ian Noe opens.