Geoff McKenzie writes songs that are about something. Love and its malfunctions, theatrical revenge, candied moonlight, at least one murder ballad and the plot of a drugstore novel set to rhyme. It’s hard to tell if he’s a disgraced poet who got good at guitar, or verse vice-a, but somewhere along the line he raised a brood of restless folk songs that will jump in your lap and seize hold of your feelings. The little bastards. If you rounded up John Prine, Leonard Cohen, Eliza Gilkyson and Townes Van Zandt and stripped them to their essence, the authorities would like a word with you.