That homecoming instinct runs strong on her seventh album, Little Miss Twain. In the rootsy arrangements of Little Miss Twain, her voice—weightier from dysphonia and the surgery she underwent to address it—finds a fitting home for its impressive force. On “Little Miss Twain,” she sits closer to her memory. Twain reminisces about hoping that her prodigious talent—“According to my mother, I’m the next Tanya Tucker,” she sings—will be enough to overcome the poverty surrounding her. “Little Miss Twain” resists the easy arc of vindication.