Why is there an owl on the cover of an album called Coyotes? And how did Holy Fuck’s Brian Borcherdt manage to squeeze in making a new solo record into his ridiculous international touring schedule? Neither mystery compares to those wrapped inside this treasure of a record, the anti-thesis of Holy Fuck’s instrumental freak-outs. The most intimate of his personal recordings yet — you can hear his fingers move over the fretboard, the creaks of his chair — Coyotes is the cry of little things as captured by one voice and guitar in someone’s living room. On the plaintive title track, his vocals break — liberated, finally, by the simplest of string accompaniment. This gives way to the sorrowful melodies of “The Drugs” and “Evil Twin,” buoyed by piano and ethereal background vocals, respectively. Not so much haunting as haunted, these seven songs demand you lean in closer. And while it can be claustrophobic in there, trapped with Borcherdt’s anxieties and unease, the music’s fragility is never tentative or too precious. On Coyotes, Borcherdt’s expletives are no less potent for being hushed.