Jurado’s cosmic trilogy with his late producer Richard Swift has since been simmered back to spare, elemental songwriting, with skeletally sufficient rock backdrops. Phrases are doled out, syllables toll, synced with strokes of guitar. It’s portable music for a prolific singersongwriter who’s long outlasted any scene, instead focusing on sketches of quiet desolation and glimmering redemption, as when “Johnny Caravella” mountsa clearing electric storm of guitar, and Jurado hoarsely advises: “Just stick around, ’til the light pushes into the darkness”. The people in these songs are losing their listeners, memory or love, suffering partial erasures. And yet this melodic music holds them close with familial warmth.