In a particularly endearing song, Tim Howard, the driving force behind Soltero, bemoans his infidelity: “Wedding ring on your finger, you really come right off,” he laments over a distant ukulele and wind organ. A few songs later he’s drinking away his sorrows, comparing bottles of beer to a family of orphans “that sought me out and found me here,” so “I took them in, I held them dear.” It’s this sort of disenchanted sensibility, conveyed in wide-eyed, uncomplicated language, that gives You’re No Dream its poignancy. Howard acts as an anti-Colin Meloy of sorts — there’s no big fancy words, no extended metaphors anywhere on the album. And yet he’s not explicitly singing about the guilt he feels from breaking his wedding vows; he’s more befuddled by the impermanency of a piece of jewelry. Awash in lo-fi charm, riddled with the beats of a broken hand drum, and cradling Howard’s even-keeled vocals (think David Berman of the Silver Jews), You’re No Dream comes together as a collection of ragtag nursery rhymes, reminding us ever so gently that the world kind of sucks sometimes.