At some point in a relatively new artist’s career, she stops being the “next so-and-so” or “a cross between x and y” and becomes just who she is.

Since the release of her 2002 debut Bramble Rose, Tift Merritt has been compared to such greats as Emmylou Harris, Dusty Springfield, Lucinda Williams, Carole King and Joni Mitchell. But with her latest release, See You On the Moon, it’s safe to say she’s established what it means to be Tift Merritt.

It means one of the best voices in the business — equally at ease with a throaty rasp or a delicate high note — singing heartfelt, well-crafted songs over subtly muscular instrumentation. And it means her keen intelligence and big heart shining through every note.

On her last two albums, Merritt has largely abandoned the country flavors of her early work in favor of a more mellow 70s singer-songwriter vibe. This low-fi collection of sweetly earnest songs would have fit comfortably on the shelf alongside albums by King and Mitchell. And if you ever hear her on the radio, it’s a good bet the station is NPR.

Merritt has yet to write a bad song, and I count about half the tracks on See You On the Moon among the very best she’s written. ‘Mixtape,’ the album opener, is a sultry ode to “rock and roll love in a plastic case;” ‘Papercut’ is a soft rocker that compares a lover’s barbs to those nasty slices: “You’re just a papercut, I can’t see why it would hurt, I don’t know why it would hurt but it does.”

‘Feel of the World’ is an achingly pretty ballad, with backing vocals by My Morning Jacket’s Jim James, told from the perspective of Merritt’s dead grandfather and addressed to her grandmother, who died (recently) years after he did.

Other highlights are ‘All the Reasons We Don’t Have to Fight,’ a sweet and nostalgic tune set the morning after a fight about something you don’t even remember; title track ‘See You On the Moon,’ addressed to a childhood friend who died unexpectedly (“April is a fine time, just thought you’d be around for June”); and ‘The Things That Everybody Does,’ which could be a long lost Joni Mitchell classic.

I realize I just listed seven songs as the highlights of a 12-song album, and that really sums up how strong and assured a songwriter and performer Merritt has become. And I have to mention her cover of ‘Danny’s Song,’ the Kenny Loggins tune made popular by Anne Murray, which promises to be corny but in her hands winds up poignant and sweet.

I don’t know if Tift Merritt will ever enjoy the commercial success of the legends to whom she’s been compared, but over eight years and four albums she has left me no doubt that she’ll reach their heights artistically. See You On the Moon is the best evidence yet.