Better yet, Caught in the Trees might also be one of the most collaborative in his career; bandmates Jenna Conrad and Eric Fisher played a considerably larger role this time round in developing Jurado's songs, and it shows. Rather than sounding merely like the work of a singer-songwriter accompanied by backing musicians, the new disc feels like a transmission from a "proper band," albeit one centered on a particularly compelling lead vocalist. Consequently, Jurado comes across as quite energized here. Contrast his newest with its predecessor, 2006's ghostly late-night shiver-inducer, And Now That I'm in Your Shadow (Secretly Canadian), and the power-surge is striking to say the least.

Vulnerability, mistrust, and infidelity figure prominently in Caught in the Trees' dissections of household discord, as do pills and drink. Narrators disappoint their lovers, and lovers disappoint the narrators. Couples harbor secrets from each other, trying to delude themselves into thinking that pushing onward - blind eyes firmly fixed - is preferable to tackling the dread and the fear head-on. Suspicion never strays too far, nor do the lies. Awkward moments and the gut-squalling possibility for confrontation loom overhead, storm clouds ready and waiting to tear it all asunder.

Listening to the disc, I was immediately reminded of, yes, Carver, but also, for a more contemporary reference, Anne Enright's riveting Booker Prize-winning novel of household dysfunction, The Gathering (Black Cat/Grove/Atlantic). Like the much-lauded Irish author, Jurado possesses a gift for tossing out straight-to-the-point turns of phrase that have a spectacular way of simultaneously punching in the gut and raising a sick smile to the lips. The novel's deeply troubled (but occasionally admirably witty) narrator, Veronica, offers up an unblinking worldview, largely informed by disappointment and dark secrets. As scorched-earth as her sentences might sometimes be, there's something impressively scrappy about her fighting instincts, her lacerating sense of humor.

Caught in the Trees brawls with a similar pluck, tying fist-raised declarations to arrangements that tend to be decidedly more rock-out than much found on recent Jurado releases. "You'll be happy to know / the situation is worse," he taunts on the electric guitar-chugging, pencil-tapping-propelled kiss-off "Coats of Ice." Far from self-pitying, Jurado's narrator instead appears to be reveling in the bile, as evidenced by the chorus: "You look like you could use a rest / you look like you'd be better dead."

Elsewhere, Jurado sneakily suggests, "You must remove the skin and burn it all for fuel," (the vaguely Sonic Youth-y "Caskets"), while his assertions that "I don't ever feel like getting well" on the anthemic midtempo number "Go First" sound downright defiant in their embrace of self-sabotaging behavior.

Such actions appear throughout the disc, with characters often acknowledging that they're doing the wrong things before going ahead and doing them anyway. As easy as it is to shake one's head in frustration when a friend or loved one shoots himself in the foot like that, there's a certain train-wreck fascination with reading about or hearing about such fuck-up-ery - chalk it up to the benefit of having some emotional distance from the events.

That said, Jurado offers plenty of such moments. Particularly noteworthy is "Sheets," a piano-and-guitar slow-burn accented by occasional disembodied handclaps: "Is he still coming around like an injured bird needing a nest? / A place to rest his head in a song you'll regret / Lord knows I don't want to compete / But I still sleep in the very sheets he's been in." Ouch. Wince.

Want another birds-eye view of homes in turmoil? Try "Dimes," a slow-gathering acoustic storm with Jurado deftly juggling brittle-hearted soul-baring and bold-faced bravado. His first words out of the gate? "I've got dimes by the dozen / I'm placing a call to your husband / Does he know about me at all?" As a possible response to or extension of "Dimes," its follow-up, the breathtaking cello-and-piano ballad "Everything Trying," guardedly offers olive branches between a feuding couple: "And I would come back and admit that it wasn't your fault / but I'm tired and unwilling to be the only one who was wrong."

Perhaps the most affecting of these bitter slices of life, however, is the crunching, feedback-biting "Best Dress," a Neil Young-evoking portrait of an unhappy couple pretending things will get better. "Hey now, put your best dress on / I'm tired of fighting," Jurado begs in an injured, hopeful wail while Conrad renders exquisitely downcast harmonies. "Let's take it out on the town / Do some old-style dancing." Meanwhile, the drums pound away like a vague approaching menace as teeth-baring squalls of guitar swarm around the couple. Do they know it will all fall apart once again? Probably. Will knowing this keep them from trying? Probably not. Are we, the listeners, all the better for having witnessed the damage? You bet.

Here's a clip of Damien performing "Last Rights" from Caught in the Trees:

DAMIEN JURADO
With Jennifer O'Connor
Sept. 10, 8 p.m., $12
Independent
628 Divisadero, SF
(415) 771-1422