The essence of Hop Along, as vocalist and songwriter Frances Quinlan might say, isn’t in its melodies or sonic tracks, but rather in the prose. That isn’t to say that meaning is easily derived on the Philadelphia-based folk-rock band’s latest, Painted Shut (Saddle Creek Records), because nothing has ever been entirely explicit with them. Like its predecessor, 2012’s Get Disowned, Painted Shut is a series of songs about ordinary people just living. As such, Quinlan sings as if conversing, fidgeting and stumbling over words while reciting a story like an average human who happens to be the center of attention. That’s sort of the gist of Painted Shut: by being unassuming, the album proves immensely intimate and becomes a study of Quinlan’s own expression.

The nuances of Quinlan’s voice are given greater appreciation as a result of the minimalistic backing throughout the album. This is especially the case on the record’s most pressing moments, namely the closing minutes of “Horseshoe Crabs” (a kind of ode to cult folk musician Jackson C. Frank), the back end of “Buddy in the Parade,” and the champion “doo-doo-doos” of “Well-dressed.” Quinlan’s voice frequently sounds as urgent as it does passive—she hits every anxious feeling in “Waitress”—and it works to the album’s betterment.

For as low-key as the album is, it eventually builds to an all-out banger. (It has to at some point with ex–Algernon Cadwallader guitarist Joe Reinhart in the band, right?) Following the exhausting “Well-dressed,” which, to give you an idea of its effect, is the emotional sequel of sorts to Get Disowned’s “Tibetan Pop Stars,” the finale, “Sister Cities,” is a full-on sweep of optimistic guitar chugging that would be a misleading representation of the band if listened to in a vacuum. Here, though, it’s a felicitous end cap. Painted Shut is the antithesis of forward-thinking, but that isn’t the point. Hop Along writes songs for those afflicted by living life, which obviously doesn’t necessarily go in a straight line.