A young man leaves society behind, finds himself in a place called Maraqopa, gets in a car accident, sets out searching, and never goes home. That vague plot sums up Damien Jurado’s last two albums and readies us for Visions of Us on the Land (Secretly Canadian), the best of the trilogy and the culmination of a six-year expedition. On this long road, Jurado’s work has continued to become more bountiful, more experimental, and more inventive as he’s been increasingly influenced by his long partnership with producer and labelmate Richard Swift. Together they brought a huge spectrum of sounds and moods to Maraqopa and Brothers and Sisters of the Eternal Sun that set those records apart from each other and from the rest of Jurado’s already impressive catalog. The difference this time, though, is less in the sonic details than in the self-assured approach. If the last two records were about exploration (and they were, both musically and lyrically), Visions is about the end of the pilgrimage.

This last leg of the trip starts with momentum on “November 20.” A throbbing bassline, unresolved chords, rising strings–it’s just right for the opening credits. Then we’re right back on the road with “Mellow Blue Polka Dot” and its rambling piano, finger-picking, and gentle interludes. It’s like entering the life of a weary traveler–driving hard one moment, sleeping on the side of the road a few hours later. The sound of the record is as open as the great plains, with wide expanses of sound, valleys of reverberation, and echoes of yesterday’s muses.

Jurado paints a vivid portrait of a man who’s reaching the end of his odyssey. “Tried my hand as a brother, failed as a man and a friend,” he sings on “On the Land, Blues” before finishing the thought with “I know who I was then. I know who I am now.” On “Exit 353,” our narrator has found some kind of deliverance, but still has enormous pain just under the surface. Jurado ends it wailing, “I was alone then,” over and over as the song reaches a forceful crescendo. The last few tracks are gentle and calm as Jurado sings of the passing of time and and the reflection that comes with the long-awaited ending. These three albums have been a panoramic story about an artist setting out to discover his true voice and make it his own. It’s fitting that Visions of Us on the Land is a sure-handed masterwork, a lonely dream of a record, and a thoroughly satisfying end to Damien Jurado’s great journey.