As always, Zedek leads a really exceptional band, a collection of Boston lifers who pull together and pull apart with the worn-in expertise of people who have been playing together for a long time. She has Winston Braman on bass and David Michael Curry on viola, both essential to her surging, wailing sound. Gavin McCarthy, from E and, further back, Karate, is back again on drums, lending a punk violence and agitation to these songs, even in their more legato intervals. Mel Lederman is less of a consistent presence than in the past, though he does play some piano on “Binoculars.” And Karen Sarkisian, a pedal steel guitarist, plays with Zedek for the first time, making a real mark on opener “Cranes,” with her eerie, entwining twang.

“Cranes” is one of the album’s highlights, heavy and mournful but with a beautiful light flooding in from the direction of Sarkisian’s guitar. Zedek is in very good voice, here and elsewhere, rough and passionate but fully in control, and Curry’s viola, as always, echoes and reinforces her alto timbres. Thy are very good together.

The other big stand-out comes later, in “Queasy,” the disc’s hardest rocking, starkest cut. Here’s where McCarthy comes in handy, knocking the ironclad rhythm out in a sweaty fury, while Zedek’s guitar punches out a screaming mantra. The guitar lick is tight and repetitive and furious, locked in and unornamented. There’s a brief, blistering bass solo in this cut that strips away all else and lets you hear how Braman powers the band.

There are some flourishes here and there, a cello player on a couple of tracks, a trumpeter in the midst of “From the Fire,” but mostly this album presents an artist who has had all the time life affords to figure out how she wants to sound and all the support that long-time collaborators can bring to realizing her ideas. Every sound fits, without sounding in the least bit fussed over or premeditated. It’s more like a living organism than a band, bringing all systems together to sing its song, once again.