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Moreland points to that liberating rediscovery as a major influence on the sonic choices that shape LP5. There is no grand or alarming stylistic departure here––just different textures and background layers that add muscly new dimensions to Moreland’s heretofore instrumentally sparse recordings. The record also marks Moreland’s first time working with a producer. He chose Matt Pence. “I wouldn’t say that he pushed me into trying anything that I didn’t already want to do, but I think I came in with a lot of ideas that I found interesting but didn’t know how to execute. Matt was great at expanding on those things,” Moreland says.

For Moreland, falling back in love with music also coincided with an even more personal change. “This past year, I’ve been getting into mindfulness and being kinder to myself,” he says. “I was really on that wave when I started writing these songs. I guess it shows.”

It does show––beautifully. Album opener “Harder Dreams” is a clear-eyed confession, not of wrongdoing, but of disbelief in a life defined by unworthiness and threatened by damnation. Echoing percussive punches make the music sound like a transmitted message, fighting its way through the atmosphere. Punctuated by keys and fuzzy guitar, “Terrestrial” picks up on the same idea, and delivers the kind of killer line we’ve come to expect from Moreland: “As a child I repented my nature, till as a man, I repented my past.”

“It goes back to being kind to yourself,” Moreland says. “Part of that process for me was realizing all the ways I have been taught or learned to be cruel to myself or to hate myself through my life. A big source of that was church for me. They teach you that you’re bad and you have to repent for what you are. Now, I feel like I’ve grown up, and I repent for that––because that was a sin against myself.”

Slow-burning blues song “A Thought is Just a Passing Train” quells worry with the truth: “I had a thought about darkness. / A thought’s just a passing train,” Moreland sings. His gravelly voice, capable of both hushed devastation and rock-anthem growls, sounds more powerful than ever. “Learning How to Tell Myself the Truth” is both wry and gorgeous––a rare combination Moreland is uniquely suited to perfect. “I Always Let You Burn Me to the Ground” unfurls into a plea and admission, while harmonica-rich “Let Me Be Understood” looks backward with new eyes and embraces enlightenment. Two instrumentals offer meditative pauses: “Two Stars” plays like a lilting acoustic guitar lullaby, while “For Ichiro” breaks with expectations to revel in mesmerizing keys and trills.

Moreland wrote “When My Fever Breaks” for his wife. He started the song when the two were dating, then finished it three years later. The track is a tribute to the trust and comfort that come with being loved well. “It took me a long time to write it,” he says. “It was hard to figure out, how do I write the kind of love song that I am comfortable with?”