"If it ain't tragedy, how can it be true?" asks Wil Cope in opening his sophomore LP with "Fallin' Out of Love." Like 2011's Sunset Craves, these are low-down, gutter-tumbled ballads hinging on the singer's nasal drawl, but there's an ineffable charm and undeniably sharp songwriting buried in the raw, no-fi production. The desert-dusted psych of "End of the Bed (End of the World)" and last call slur "Past the Night" sink into Cope's spectrum of restlessness and regret.
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