Over the past year, Mike Fiore, the man behind Faces on Film (which half the time is just Fiore on stage anyway), has been giving his songs a little something extra. Maybe it’s the delicate touches — thorny chords tucked in between lines, or the rolling, breath-like tempo of his ballads. Maybe it’s his revival-tent revelations, which issue over tambourine and seething organ rave-ups. Or perhaps it’s just his voice, a pure, reedy, revved-up instrument that projects like the beam of a searchlight across dark clubs, sparkling river banks, and every other venue in which we’ve seen him this past year. The Troubles (self-released) showcased every indie-rock trick in the book and then some; Fiore nails the dusty acoustic approach, washed-out psychedelic flare-ups, and scrappy, waltzing sing-alongs with ease. And anyone who can wring actual catharsis out of a McSweeney’s line like “the medical mind isn’t one that exists” deserves some kind of a medal, right?