After four albums that dig into the dark heart of American Male Arrogance and The Comedy of Worldwide Tragedy, Josh Tillman reinvents his wheel once more and delivers an album that chisels at the cracks of early 60s vocal pop. Very much the bizarro version of A Little Touch of Schmilsson In The Night, Chloe is mostly played straight as lush arrangements help weave tales of the dead and dying and those who hover around to hear the death rattles. “Goodbye Mr. Blue” rearranges “Everybody’s Talkin” into a torch song for a cat on his last life, and the downright anthemic “Q4”’s tasteful harpsichord and warm string interludes give crushing weight to the banality of memoir deadlines. It’s a strange, beautiful work of bruised hope and Tillman-brand misanthropy with a softer-than-usual heart.