From the second the sound of his signature scratchy vocals herald it in to the moment they fade out, Pete Yorn’s Back & Fourth showcases an artist at his most emotionally exposed. There is a marked maturity to this album, the film-inspired tracks and convenience store memories gone in favor of the vulnerability that comes with laying your soul completely bare.

The production of Bright Eyes’ Mike Mogis is almost instantly evident on this album. Songs like “Country” were clearly inspired by the time Yorn spent recording the album in Saddle Creek territory, also known as Nebraska. Eschewing L.A. in favor of Omaha seemed like a cardinal sin at first, but the time spent there clearly revived Yorn’s creative juices.

In addition to the increased feeling of earnestness on this album, the arrangements are played closer to the chest. Yorn’s last two albums, Nightcrawler and Day I Forgot, had a slick veneer that sometimes obscured the songs’ sentiments. Mogis did an excellent job of bringing some of the loose, gritty feel of Yorn’s live performances onto this album.

“Don’t Wanna Cry,” which has been available for download since March, opens the album with Yorn’s unmistakable warble and a melody built on adventurous chord changes. It’s the first single from Back & Fourth, and the first example of the kind of plainspoken honesty this album offers.

That’s not to imply that Yorn hasn’t always had a knack for this sort of thing; there are great examples on all three of his previous studio efforts. But on this album, Yorn doesn’t hide behind characters — either real (“Murray”) or imagined (“So Much Work”) -– at all. I always enjoyed the quirky edge of a love song told from Jack the Ripper’s point of view (“Simonize”), but on this album, he sticks to some of his most fertile emotional ground.

For example, “Country” borrows lyrics from musicforthemorningafter’s “Just Another,” possibly referencing his failed relationship with Winona Ryder. Also evident is the influence of his Nebraska surroundings and a previous collaboration with The Dixie Chicks’ Natalie Maines. The strings aren’t quite country, but they’re present, nonetheless.

“Social Development Dance” implements a musical structure somewhat similar to “Don’t Wanna Cry,” and this album is a lot more cohesive than any Yorn has previously released. The Mogis/Omaha influence can be felt in every song, although the songs are still very much Pete Yorn compositions.

This song contains some of the more oddly enchanting lyrics on this album, including, “I Googled you in quotes, got no results.” It may be the strongest track on the album, although many are nearly as memorable and just as insightful. Even though he has some fun with the lyrics here, there’s nothing cryptic about the song. His feelings are still on full display as he sings about connecting with someone and failing to reconnect later. “There’s something missing in us, we tried to make it whole, though it never felt like it, I know you had it all.”

Reflection is a huge part of this album, whether it’s remembering Winona or a girl he went to a dance with. Perhaps no song highlights this fact more than the driving “Last Summer,” a realization and an afterthought about a relationship that probably wasn’t right to begin with. This song effectively closes out Back & Fourth’s faster front six and makes way for the final four.

“Thinking Of You” is ethereal and (obviously) pensive — the cymbal crashes and strings rising to near-exaltation as the song builds to an emotionally powerful crescendo. Closing out the album are two piano-driven numbers, the heavy-hearted “Four Years” and the resigned “Long Time Nothing New.” Despite the title of the latter, there is a lot that’s new about this song, and this album as a whole. Yorn is looser than he’s ever been on the piano on this track; it’s like the instrument is finally able to match the jangly freedom of his guitar. He closes the album, fittingly, with the simple statement, “I’m here.” Like so many simple lyrical truths that precede it on this album, this line speaks volumes about how far Pete Yorn has come as an artist. After some highly creative and somewhat shielded albums, he has finally stripped away all the layers to stand here, emotionally earnest and affecting.