Marcus King, “Mood Swings.”

With a deft hand on his guitar and a voice that tells a thousand stories all by itself, Marcus King lays bare struggles of substance abuse and suicidal ideation on his third solo LP, Mood Swings, all while clinging to a growing flame of resilience and hope. Blurring Americana’s rich storytelling with the timeless allure of blues chords and the melodies of pop and rock, King crafts a captivating musical landscape as he confronts his own demons.

Opening with a 1959 audio clip of a psychiatrist discussing the “terrible hopelessness” of depression, the album’s first song—which happens to be both the title track and an album highlight—is a candid and authentic look into his struggle to escape depression. Melancholic acoustic guitar strums over a simple digital beat accompany a chorus of expressive and memorable harmonies, carried by King’s raw voice.

The legendary Rick Rubin, who produced the entire project, sticks to his traditional approach of stripped-back instrumentation with occasional subtle and experimental embellishments, allowing King’s gritty and soulful voice to take up extensive space on each track.

King’s despair and anguish is at the forefront of the next track, as he sings, “Come fuck my life up again/ I don’t deserve to live without pain.” Another of the record’s woeful moments, the song is unflinching and sharply produced, with smooth background vocals and fitting orchestral sections.

King starts to heal on “Save Me,” which opens with, “For the first time I can remember/ I’m afraid to die.” He’s still in a dark place, though, singing, “Save me/ I feel like I’m trapped in my mind.” Yet this lyrical despair contrasts the peppy production, with a warped electric guitar motif and dulcet melodies akin to Black Pumas’ signature concoction of psychedelic soul and soft rock. A gospel choir, dreamy synth riffs and simple piano notes join King to conclude the uniquely genre-bending yet simultaneously simplistic track.

The album’s middle section embraces melancholic acoustic guitar chords and soft percussion, with each steady and gratifying song perfect for a sunset road trip. “Inglewood Motel (Halestorm)” is a dreamy haze of soul and Americana, with mostly bare bones production while also featuring moments of purposeful and surprising instruments like organ slides, synths and filtered guitar riffs.

Clocking in at six minutes and nine seconds, “Bipolar Love” is another sweet tune, but isn’t novel enough to stay interesting for its lengthy runtime. “Love is bipolar/ Always gets colder,” but the song is dragged out longer than it needs to be.

Though organ can be found throughout the record, it shines most on the soulful and fun “Me or Tennessee,” a song that features high-pitched and filtered background vocals that sound slightly unnatural and would have been more pleasing if sung by an actual choir. The record closes with “Cadillac,” a return to the simple and successful format of just Marcus King and his guitar. “With these keys, I find my peace,” sings King, who exits the album still on his healing journey.