After six years of producing other artists' music, returns to the name -- and the project's fundamentals -- with , an album as restrained as its predecessor was lavish. 's noir visions of 1980s funk, pop, and disco were artfully, intentionally excessive, but this time, pares his music down to peer more closely at everyday horror. cited and as two of his major influences while making the album, and he does both of them proud. "Ask the Community" channels the former's knack for honeyed melodies and bone-dry satire (which only grows more pointed every time asks "doesn't it make you feel better?"). On "Mystery Street," he injects "Heroes and Villains"-style giddiness into its tale of evil hiding in plain sight. gives decay, despair, and hypocrisy an impressive number of disguises on , even if they don't last. Addictively sweet '60s pop curdles into bitterness and maniacal laughter on "Sugar Land"; on "Confessions of Dr. Woo," the alluring sounds of lounge give way to bubbling electro-jazz that evokes a mad scientist's lab. Coming after 's maximalism, the album's relative subtlety is surprising, but it's just as complex on pieces such as "800 Pristine Corpses," a haunting musical purgatory that swirls fear, regret, and resignation together in its circular piano melody. 's up-close-and-personal songwriting presents 's commentary in its most direct form since , particularly on its closing pair of songs. Equal parts quaint and disgusted, "Holy Motors" sets his condemnation of the addiction, pollution, and blight left in the wake of 20th century notions of progress to a twinkling sonic fantasia. However, any lingering irony falls away on the album's hymnal title track as he ponders the measure of love with hypnotic simplicity. Even though it's only eight songs long, moments like these make far from slight. The standouts rival 's finest work, and every track is packed with the vivid imagery and sounds fans have come to expect. ~ Heather Phares