There's something very blue (Wrangler blue) about Porter Hall Tennessee, a five-piece band that's actually from the real town of Murfreesboro. Molly Conley and Gary Roadarmel's sad, gentle twangs -- her beautiful notes a deeper alto, his rural syllables clipped, brittle and morose -- make closing time not a drunken, heavy moment but something fragile and slippery as hell. Often planted firmly on a barstool, the band's spare, tight music falls between bluegrass and honky-tonk, except for those times when it roils itself into a big, bitter memory gone loud. It's refreshing to hear Conley sing I made plans to leave that town/Just like every drunk around; it's painfully real when Roadarmel adds overtime to the line Whiskey, whores and overtime have taken her place/Now that she's gone. Those involved with break-ups, alcohol troubles or hometown hatred issues should read the warning label before attending. For the rest, Porter Hall's a fine place to spend a winter night.