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The opening of “Midnight Train to Memphis” from the self-titled debut by Nashville acoustic group The SteelDrivers uses acoustic instruments to shake the earth with an aggression reminiscent of Led Zeppelin’s “The Immigrant Song.” The groove conjures fury and elemental force, an impression enforced when singer Chris Stapleton enters with a weighty, deep-blues growl. His voice seethes with spite as he references a 40-day jail sentence given because he couldn’t afford the judge’s fine. But his rage can’t counteract the loneliness he feels as he hears the nightly call of a train heading to Memphis, where, it seems, the prisoner will soon be heading—with something in mind that may cost more than a short jail spell.

That iron-belted rhythm, combined with Stapleton’s gritty howl, instantly separates The SteelDrivers from the score of sharp-playing bluegrass bands that have stepped forward this decade. A band of Nashville all-stars, The SteelDrivers feature two Dead Reckoning alumni, veteran Mike Henderson on mandolin and Americana mainstay Tammy Rogers on fiddle. Richard Fleming has the task of keeping up with this ferocious sound on acoustic bass, while singer Stapleton and the stunning banjoist Richard Bailey give two more reasons why The SteelDrivers sound so unique.

The quintet call their music “rhythm and bluegrass,” a term previously used back when New Grass Revival first brought a modern pulse to mountain music. Indeed, much like New Grass’ John Cowan busted barriers with his powerhouse tenor, Stapleton adds rock dynamics and hard-soul toughness to bluegrass’ high-lonesome traits.

But in the long run, it’s the strength of the band’s songwriting that will make the music endure. According to Jon Weisberger’s album liner notes, the band began because Henderson felt the songs he and Stapleton were writing would best fit a bluegrass style. Henderson being who he is—a righteous bluesman, an unapologetic honky-tonker and someone who brings a fierce machismo to everything he does—it makes sense the band would adapt a dark-toned, sinewy style that brings a whiskey bluster to bluegrass. Henderson and Stapleton’s lyrics don’t cast a nostalgic eye toward the glories of rural life and church. Instead, they dig into lives where those anchors pull them under instead of lift them up.

While bluegrass has never shied away from harsh truths, The SteelDrivers nearly obsess on doom. Yet like a good hard-rock band, they give their songs of desperation a defiant swagger. As with many old folk songs, women often meet a violent end. Unlike many old folk songs, the murderers don’t dwell on remorse and regret.

On “If It Hadn’t Been for Love,” Stapleton’s bitter protagonist cuts down the woman he loves with a .44, then sings in the chorus, “Four cold walls against my will / At least I know she’s lying still.” Similarly, in “I Hear the Willow Cry,” the singer offers, “I went crazy when I found her with that man / I felt better once the blood was on my hand.”

Not everything is so viscerally dark. “If You Can’t Be Good, Be Gone” warns a lover to straighten up, to a bouncy melody that will have listeners singing along by the second chorus. And “Heaven Sent” shines with melodic brilliance while setting its upbeat sound against a slice of existential blues. Like many SteelDrivers songs, it’s endlessly quotable, whether it’s the hard lesson of “I know our days are heaven sent / Lord knows I know not where they went” or the dead-on pinpointing of the difference between those who feel they’ve figured life out and those who see it as something more elusive.

The SteelDrivers aren’t the only new acoustic act debuting this month with a fresh sound. Tim Hensley, a Nashville harmony singer and guitarist, makes his solo introduction with Long Monday, a consistently powerful set that also pries open bluegrass formulas. Hensley’s worked in the past with Patty Loveless and Ricky Skaggs, and their influence shows, especially when Hensley interprets songs from their repertoire. The tenor singer takes on the Ralph Stanley gospel classic “Two Coats,” a song featured on Loveless’ album Mountain Soul. It’s a stirring version that starts solemnly, as Stanley usually does it, then shifts into a faster version similar to Loveless’ breakneck take.

Hensley also offers a beautiful version of Larry Cordle and Carl Jackson’s “Lonesome Dove,” a song his former boss, Skaggs, recorded in a contemporary country arrangement in the ’90s and in bluegrass style earlier this decade. Hensley’s rendition is folkier and prettier, in some ways closer in style to Trisha Yearwood’s 1991 recording of the tune.

But the leader-sideman relationship most important to Hensley’s new album is that of his most recent employer, Kenny Chesney, who co-produces Hensley’s album with his longtime studio collaborator Buddy Cannon. Together they give Hensley’s indie release a carefully tended, high-budget sheen that befits his smooth, honeysuckle tone. The SteelDrivers’ Stapleton slams with grit and danger, but Hensley drips with finesse and calm. His tone is more reminiscent of James Taylor, and his musical arrangements reflect that style of relaxed comfort.

Hensley’s title song is a cover of a recent John Prine tune, but when Prine conveys the regret of having to end a weekend with his lover to start the work week, his craggy tone seeps with weariness. Hensley, on the other hand, seems more interested in looking forward to the next time, rather than focusing on the absence of time together, especially in the way he asks his lover to “give me a kiss that will last all week.”

His clarity also works well on Rodney Crowell’s “Ridin’ Out the Storm,” a story song in the Townes Van Zandt tradition that looks at a down-and-outer with delicate compassion. It’s about a homeless guy who knows the woman he once loved lives in a penthouse, and his decisions landed him in a more difficult situation. The song cuts its stark reality with a touch of optimism brought on by hard reckoning, and Hensley does a good job of resurrecting this overlooked gem from Crowell’s catalog.

In the liner notes to The SteelDrivers, Weisberger also makes an important point too often missed by those who view Nashville as a town that dampens musical creativity by directing everything toward strict formulas. The collection of musicians who come here may at times be disappointed and limited by the industry machine, but they also often benefit from the unlimited creativity and inspiration found within the city’s music community. Both The SteelDrivers and Hensley’s Long Monday could only have come out of a community as rich in top pickers and restless spirits as Music City. These records won’t get a lot of radio airplay, but they will be passed among aficionados and cherished by acoustic music fans for years to come.