Moon Casale

In 2013, the Brooklyn neighborhood of Greenpoint likely has more struggling musicians than people to buy music. Moon Casale—a.k.a. Keith Zarriello of The Shivers, resembling a visiting priest from an Ingmar Bergman film—tells dark, attractive tales on this fingerpicked collection of lonesome folk. Whatever hipster allegations might be served due to his Greenpoint scene affiliation (he's actually a perennial outsider living in Queens) should be rendered silly upon hearing his songs' emotional honesty. Each track builds upon another, sounding comforting and strangely familiar, yet impossible to completely compare to another singer/songwriter. Recorded to tape in the Bronx and Albuquerque, N.M., the album has a vintage, sometimes bootleg feel about it. "Abq.," "Noah's Ark" (with Jupiter Sara's surging organ), and "New Jerusalem" (with crisp electric guitar suddenly augmented by a baby's cry instead of a guitar solo) sound as if someone found another artist at the end of the reel of Dylan's infamous basement tape. All is weird, spooky, and unsettling, and the funeral organ of "Howlin' at the Moon" confirms everything.