Let’s talk a little about coming out. National “Coming Out Day” falls on October 11th every year, and every year think pieces proliferate on each corner of the internet, some fully in support of the day and some critical of the inherent exclusivity of the idea of “coming out.” Nick Zanca, who records music as Mister Lies, falls squarely in the latter camp. “‘coming out’ is a premeditated/priveldeged [sic] decision and can be especially precarious when one belongs to more than 1 marginalized community,” he wrote in a tweet on October 11th, one of many in a series that afternoon. Zanca has taken to the internet in recent months to voice his opinion of topics he feels passionately about; he is compelled to reveal his inner feelings to the world. I guess that’s the definition of a musician in an abstract way.

So it makes total sense that Shadow, Mister Lies’ second album, should be seeing a release on Orchid Tapes. The label has been steadily releasing some of the most powerful music of the past few years, and considering their commitment to supporting people and musicians who are “mentally ill, who are queer, …disenfranchised and marginalized,” Zanca’s M.O. jives absolute. All that being said, we’d be better off avoiding the metaphor of “coming out” when referring to Shadow. Yes, he started singing on his songs and, yes, the lyrics are confessional and personal. It’s a surface-level takeaway.

Shadow‘s big triumph is its percussion. Zanca has always been an immaculate producer. His earliest EPs were masterful displays of minimalism and texture, Majestic Casual be damned. But on Shadow, bells, electric buzzing, rolling hi-hats and bubbling bass entangle themselves with each passing bar, layers upon layers of microsamples flitting back and forth from ear to ear. The Radiohead-esque “A Room Without” takes its hyper-digital palette and fuses it with the soulful sheen of “High,” each high note slathered in reverb. It’s a dense, attention-demanding listening experience.

When I listen to Shadow I think of the intricacies of human bodies, of crevices and ridges, bumps and scars, pores and bones. I keep thinking of the album cover of Autre Ne Veut’s Body EP, which looks exactly how this album sounds and feels. When Zanca pleads with someone on “Pill” to “turn me inside out,” its unclear whether he means metaphorically or literally. It’s an uncompromising and unashamed sexually-charged song, and subsequently it’s one of the more beautiful ones in his discography so far.

For months I’ve been hearing the high pitched voice at the beginning of “Nymph” repeating the phrase, “they will come for me.” That’s not what it actually says according to Zanca, but it seems so apropos in context of the whole record, which is steeped in suspicion, anger, and empowerment. When he reveals his “legs were both broken at birth” during “Push Becoming Shove” and follows it with “excuse me if I should stand up,” it’s goosebump-inducing stuff.

So I’m avoiding terms like “coming out” or “brave” because, for all the emotional outpouring, Shadow still contains a heavy dose of mystery. A cascading wall of noise overtakes the end of both “Stuck / Ouija Fade” and “Push Becoming Shove,” like positive thoughts clouded by depression. And despite the clarity of Zanca’s presence—voice, lyrics, and personality—the album cover tells a different story. Dropped back across a pond, his silhouette hardly sticks out among the trees and reflections in the water. Its a frustratingly mysterious piece of accompanying artwork for an album so open and soul-bearing. But expecting Shadow to ford the easy stream would be naive. Finally learning who Mister Lies really is isn’t the only triumph to be had with Shadow. The fragments you discover with each successive listen are equally as rewarding.

Shadow is out now via Orchid Tapes.