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.