A Withered Hand show is a balancing act — Dan Willson, more comfortable scribbling in his sketchbooks than standing in front of a packed room behind a microphone, wraps his deepest, darkest experiences in the prettiest folk-pop melodies this side of Herman Dune. At times, it’s almost too much for him to bear — a song cuts out midway through, a quick mumbled apology, and the show’s over.

That’s the thing about the best in pop. Losing hurts. Yearning kills. You might be singing the prettiest of notes and la-la-la’s, but inside that harmonious gold wrapper is the dirtiest of emotions. A long time coming, Withered Hand’s Religious Songs makes a case for Willson as one of Scotland’s finest exports, even if it does only last 15 minutes.

“I Am Nothing” meshes gentle banjo plucking with its titular sentiments, Willson’s tack-smart lyrics proclaiming “I try to see the world in your eyes/ I’m insignificant/ that’s my size/ in the greater scheme of things/ I am nothing,” and making it work. “Religious Songs” slays its protagonist, asking, “how does he really expect to be happy/ when he listens to death metal bands?” and admitting to “beating off on your futon” and hoping he doesn’t die in his sleep, lest he be discovered with sticky hands the next morning.

The older you get, the less you believe in love. It’s OK to laugh when you feel like crying. Love sucks. Give it all a tune, and sing it like you really mean it, man, and you’ve got something. Welcome Withered Hand into your life — Willson gets it.