Nashville guitarist William Tyler uses a lot of notes. In fact, his pieces for solo acoustic and electric guitar are arguably hyperactive, with melodies and variations so detailed and involved that, if transcribed into sheet music, they might look like compact constellations. His left hand is forever moving, up and down, skittering like a spider or skipping like a hare, to reach the next part of whatever majestic piece he's playing. "Country of Illusion," from this year's Merge debut, Impossible Truth, and "Missionary Ridge," from 2010's Behold the Spirit, are cataracts of activity, with little consideration of stillness or silence. But Tyler is able to craft this accretion of tiny points into songs that feel welcoming and warm. It's as though you're sitting on a back porch with an old friend, staring off into the world—it doing its unknowable work while you do your best to maintain your place among it all. Tyler worked as a sideman for years with Lambchop and Silver Jews, but his own material is a wonderful swarm, big enough for an ever-wider audience.