This is rough, handmade music, even though Boston’s Gabriel Birnbaum rented a studio this time instead of recording in his bedroom like in the past. The prominent use of horns and extended, visionary arrangements played in a close, intimate style with his plain-spoken baritone front and center most of the time gives you the sense that you’re privy to an arena rock concert taking place in Birnbaum’s head.

Birnbaum doesn’t hold back on anything. This is good on the lyrical side—check out “Love Letter”—but leads to unfortunate moments where entire minutes are rendered nearly unlistenable by off-key wordless vocals and banging (and not well mixed) cymbals that swallow up heaving, massive songs—like, well, “Love Letter,” which clocks in at over ten minutes of mixed results. His unfettered tendencies work much better when the passion comes out in fits and repetition like in the title track, a desperate song where the cymbal crashes and sax squeals make more sense.

The long songs make up the majority of runtime, but they aren’t the only thing here. There is straightforward rock like the excellent “City Kids.” Translating some of the care and attention given the short songs will make for better epics in the future.