Whether it’s boy problems or Brexit, if you’re going to cry, you might as well do it to Alexander Carson.

Somber keys and gravelly vocals build the foundation of Carson’s downtempo, atmospheric music. It’s both soothing and melancholic. Subtleties like the creak of a pedal and deflated breaths create an immersive, almost meditative experience. This is yoga for your feelings.

Celebrating its one-year anniversary, his album Ellipsism is stuffed with honest lyrics and simple melodies that are tragically relatable: “I still think of you even though you don’t think of me. I still drink to you.” I mean, c’mon, that’s me every Friday night.

Carson’s tone is effortless, conversational, delivering lines like: “This cup runeth over these hollow bones,” with a cheeky nonchalance. And when his voice dips low, it has this gruff yet charming quality, reminiscent of a young Leonard Cohen. Try not to drool.

 When it comes to storytelling, Carson is ambidextrous. His newest album, Tombland, is a semi-improvised instrumental project that leaves you wanting to hug yourself. The piano-centric tracks are characterized by calming melodies that flow gracefully from one to the other. Nothing is ever overpowering or imposing, but somehow it conjures these heavy, sticky emotions. Major rainy-day vibes.

His latest live shows will also feature new material from a yet-to-be-released album, so more sad bops incoming. Bring your lighters and tissues.

If you’re in the mood to be moody, Alexander Carson is your emotional shepherd.