Chad Rex sings about having a "hangover head," a phrase that, in conjunction with his weary, nasal voice, conjures images of a woebegone character warbling his lines in repose, a warm washcloth shielding his eyes from the wreck he made of his apartment and his life a few hours earlier. Rex's protagonists never quite shake their morning-after malaise, which invariably owes more to emotions than alcohol, but they're lucid enough to execute some sharp wordplay. In "Andrea Again," he drawls, I live the life of a hopeless romantic, then replaces hopeless with homeless during the reprise. His crisp guitar jangles and steady drum thumps (Rex handles most instrumental duties) give the up-tempo songs an optimistic spirit that belies the narrators' resignation. His lonesome ballads, accented with strings, piano and a touch of twang, contain Rex's finest country-blues hooks. Like all bar-stool lamenters, Rex occasionally overdoses on self-pity (if it's rejection, tell me to my ugly face), but his clever lyrics and warm melodies ensure that he's ultimately more empathetic than pathetic.