"Year of the Snake," the new album from New York City-based singer/songwriter, KP Devlin, picks up where his last album, the energetic "Idolatry," left off, and takes you even further into the simultaneously cynical and whimsical depths of Devlin’s imagination. Primarily a “break up” album in the spirit of Bob Dylan’s “Blood on the Tracks” and Richard & Linda Thompson’s “Shoot Out the Lights,” “Year of the Snake” starts on a humorous note with the infectious potential pop hit, “My Favorite Ex-Girlfriend.” Complete with a catchy chorus (sure to have you singing along, even if you don’t have a favorite ex-girlfriend), and a delightful brass section (played entirely by brass and woodwind virtuoso, Peck Allmond) the song chugs along with both glee and disdain. Sure to be a crowd pleaser at live shows. Much of the rest of the album’s content is more on the dark and painful side. Other notable tracks include the mariachi-infused “Our Love’s Not Dead,” the Tom Waits-esque blues number, “Long Lost Stranger,” the epic “Twilight is Here,” and the album’s title track, a seething, ominous, seven and a half minute rant, which once again features Allmond on horns, as well as Meg Okura on the erhu (“Chinese Snake Violin”). Devlin has been known to mix instruments of ethnic origins into his studio recordings, often incorporating them into a more traditional rock or folk setting in a very effective manner. This album features perhaps his most successful such mingling. Okura graces two tracks with the ehru, a hauntingly beautiful sounding instrument from China. Also present on the wistful “Forgiveness” are the uilleann pipes, a smaller, traditional Irish version of the Scottish bagpipes. Here they are played beautifully by accomplished piper, Kieran O’Hare. The band’s core is as solid and organic as can be, anchored by Dan Vonnegut and Eric Halvorson on drums, and Adam Armstrong on both electric and upright bass. The electric guitar work is handled by the extremely capable Andrew Carillo, and there are appearances by Liz Knowles on fiddle, Cassis on accordion and Greta Gertler, Laura Shay and Sarah Bonsignore on backing vocals. In the forefront, as always, is Devlin’s raspy but somehow mellifluous voice, which sounds stronger and more passionate than ever here. His jangly acoustic guitar is tucked nicely into the mix, and he also plays harmonica on two tracks, bouzouki on two others and twelve-string acoustic guitar on the album’s closer, the eerie “November Song.” This is a much more personal collection of songs than we’ve heard from Devlin. While much of his other work is steeped in metaphor, this album takes a more barebones approach. Granted, there is still plenty of wordplay and allusion, but at no point do we sense that Devlin is hiding behind it. There is pain here. But also triumph and ultimately hope. It is by no means a depressing record, but is certainly a powerful one.