Intended as a sort of companion piece to 2016's , sees singer/songwriter playing yin to the former's yang, trading comely pastoral tones for cool urban clamor. Much like (an acknowledged and apparent influence), is a native of the Midwest who began his career in New York, first as a member of bands like and , then recast as an indie poet bard with a warm affinity for the city. Before decamping to Los Angeles, he released 2013's , a folky Greenwich Village-indebted postcard to the city of his musical awakening. After a pair of records exploring his gentler West Coast side, returns here to his New York muse, this time evoking some of the raw thrills of the CBGB crowd paired with a contemporary indie spirit all his own. Notably darker from the outset, he opens with the brooding rain-slick ballad "Come to Me Now," whose lush organ, distorted drums, and eerie whistle sample are as lonesome as the song's lyrics. Echoes of and especially -- whose "People Who Died" is referenced within -- can be heard in the rousing "1234," while seem to lurk around every corner, from the gritty midtempo thump of "Aboard My Train" to the sleepy "Dry Your Eyes." In a brief spoken word interlude reciting from a piece, fellow singer/songwriter sets up the album's title track in which twin guitars snake around in enchanting harmony like on morphine. As with his debut, feels very much like a postcard to New York, though this time arrives with some accumulated miles to help support his wizened tone. ~ Timothy Monger