For those who surrendered freely to the soul-baring charms of Real Life, tears and all, good news: To Survive serves up plenty more of the same. Or, not exactly: while its predecessor was essentially one tremendous letting-go, Joan as Policewoman’s newest isn’t quite as seismic in its outpouring of emotion, focusing slightly less on loss and ill-fated love in favor of expanding further upon Real Life’s occasional flashes of wet-skinned sensuality.

Ultimately, To Survive - despite the desperation one might infer from the title - could very well be the more hopeful of the two albums, thanks to what to these ears feels like greater appreciation for the redemptive possibilities of love. This isn’t to say that Wasser ever bubbles over with the exuberance of, say, Bjork, at the “zing! boom!” of falling head over heels in “Like Someone In Love”: most of her admissions of excitement at the heart’s capacity for love are countered by warts-and-all avowals of vulnerability. Still, it is in these moments of conflicted emotion - wherein Wasser sounds simultaneously seductive and fragile - that the album remains the most potent. If Real Life was more about the struggle through the darkest of days, To Survive is the keep-on-keeping-on afterward, with one eye gazing back at the shadows and the other firmly leveled upon the bright light in the distance.

The recording opens with “Honor Wishes," a slow-burning late-night conversation between two lovers; Wasser is the brittle-hearted hopeful reaching out to her man, while guest vocalist David Sylvian - best known as the leader of the suave synth-pop glammers Japan before embarking on an endlessly fascinating solo career of experimental ambient songcraft - croons ghostly “ooh” and “oh” harmonies that are equal parts arousing and unsettling. Is he reaching back? Is he pulling away? I’m not sure.

Based largely around minimalist piano repetitions, brushed drums, and what sounds like the insistent lap of waves upon the beach, the track orchestrates a great deal of smoldering, noir-ish drama from relatively simple components. The addition of Sylvian is a particular coup, as the singer’s flair for smooth understatement meshes well with Wasser’s bluesy delivery. “Would you love me and not my need to be loved?” she cries. “Would you honor my wishes?”

Wasser’s voice is even more controlled and carefully expressive here than it was on Real Life, bristling with open-wound vulnerability in one moment only to swing into a confident jazzy stride in the next. At times, she recalls Roberta Flack in her phrasing; in other moments, I hear echoes of early Joni Mitchell.

“Holiday," for example, arrives as a modern-day cross between the folk-jazz of Mitchell’s Court and Spark and the cool smokiness of her Hejira (both Asylum/Elektra), thanks to Wasser’s soaring vocals and the pairing of hypnotic brushed-drum rhythms and an insistent strummed guitar pattern.

A similar spirit runs through the bright-eyed “Magpies," a borderline-playful romp rolled along by jazzy piano runs and call-and-response saxophone passages. Here, the possibility of love is almost too much, but Wasser confronts her discomforts head on: “In your face I see my life unfolding / but we have so many fears / Let’s gather them today and let them fly away.” When the nearly-giddy male falsetto chorus comes swooping in, things definitely seem to be looking up for our narrator…

Perhaps the most quietly overpowering - or, in the Joan as Policewoman vernacular, the “most punk rock” - moment of To Survive is found in the urgent simplicity of “To Be Lonely,” an ear-whisperingly intimate yearning for everlasting love sighed over lush strings and a tender piano melody.

Here, Wasser measures out each admission of naked vulnerability as if it were a teary-eyed mantra, hoping for dear life that the loneliness has at last come to pass. Listeners currently unlucky in love might find the fragility of the lyrics enough to send them a-fetching their hankies, but trust me, it’s worth it. Slap on those headphones, and you can feel the slow heave drifting out between these words: “This is the one / O just know it / This is the one / I want to show it / This is the one / I would die for.”

For an album so concerned with detailing the complications of life, with steering clear of black-and-white oversimplifications in favor of dipping deep into the grays, it’s entirely appropriate that To Survive ends with the complex “To America,” an astonishing slice of mixed-feeling melodrama featuring Rufus Wainwright. Noticeably pained and yet still strangely uplifting, the song opens with simple piano chords and understated woodwinds laying a tearful foundation for Wasser’s and Wainwright’s desperate exchange. “Love will save you,” Wasser begs in choked tones. “Try not to starve yourself of love.” Wainwright’s response arrives equally troubled: “Is it right, my love, is it right? It’s a question with no reply.”

Then, about halfway in, the most unexpected thing happens: suddenly the drums kick in, as does a rousing horn section. Along comes an anthemic slow build, as does a spirited chorus that defies the bitter core of its lyrical thrust: “To America / Alone alone alarm alive.” Though the full-length focuses more on sexual politics than anything on the international level, it’s tough absorbing these words outside of the context of current affairs - and yet right there in the eager delivery, one can detect the glimmers of hope. The juxtaposition is a powerful one, and as the tune drifts off into the distance with the soar and pop of fireworks crackling up above, I couldn’t help but cheer for Wasser’s dauntlessness.

Here’s the video for To Survive’s first single, “To Be Loved”:

JOAN AS POLICEWOMAN
Sept. 17, 9 p.m., $14
Café du Nord
2170 Market, SF
(415) 861-5016