Let's talk about that time we listened to "Rester" off Tsar Bomba and walked up and down the East River for like three hours. Zola Jesus regularly strikes a welcome shot of gloom in our hearts, enveloping her melancholy wail in ragged, metallic beats, suiting the surreal moments you feel like you're living in a Paul Auster detective fantasy. But her music's been decreasingly cold, paring down the industrialism, as though she's growing less afraid to be direct about what she's saying. On "Night," even her powerful wail sounds longing and vulnerable, wondering Is it the end of the night when I can be with you? Seriously, girl, we feel you.