I feel like I found my voice on this record,” says electro-psych adventurer Dan Snaith of Our Love, his fourth album as Caribou. He’s referring to his singing voice—the airy, reverb-laced falsetto that drifts over the LP’s throbbing synths and bass. But the sentiment also applies, albeit indirectly, to the Canadian musician/producer’s overall artistry. Whereas his previous releases—as Caribou, Manitoba and Daphni—have felt like immersive patchworks, Our Love is a focused statement: one man’s unbridled joy crystallized into groove.

While its title may read like an afterthought, the album was born from a place of openness and intimacy—an extension of the major life events that occurred in the four-plus years separating Our Love and its predecessor, 2010’s Swim. Caribou supported alt-rock icons Radiohead on their massive King Of Limbs tour, connecting directly with fans on a larger-than-ever level;

Snaith released the techno-oriented Daphni LP, Jiaolong; and, perhaps most crucially, his wife gave birth to a baby daughter, the couple’s first. Snaith channeled all that assorted positivity into his new music, experimenting with more immediate beats and vulnerable lyrics—aiming to shrink the distance between himself and his listeners.

“That was the first thing that I knew I wanted to do,” he says. “The reaction to Swim was quite overwhelming for me, actually—I had a sense that it had connected with people in a different way than my previous records. People just talked to me more about what it meant to them. And those interactions kind of jolted me out of being ‘shit-in-the-studio’ guy and made me think more about the wonderful life music has after it’s released. I know it’s silly that it took me this long to realize that.

“It also meant that I wanted to put more of myself into the record,” he continues, addressing the “hippie” approach of drawing inspiration from the “various loves of [his] life” and the pleasure he derives from making music. “If this record is made with the intention of sharing, then that’s the only thing that I really have to share: more of whatever personal content there is in my life. That definitely came from thinking, ‘OK, if I want to make an album that’s about sharing and connection and generosity, then what are the things in my life that are really essential and important to me?’”

It isn’t easy writing and recording an album as a new parent, squeezing in sessions between park visits and naps. But that structure forced Snaith to be more disciplined and focused with his music. And that context is a clear extension of the album’s lyrical themes—from the repeated title of droning lead single “Can’t Do Without You” to the palpable longing of funky closer “Your Love Will Set You Free” (which, with its ambiguous approach, could be either a romantic plea or a sweet love letter to a newborn baby).

“Being in my mid-30s with a little child made for a naturally reflective time in my life, anyway,” Snaith says, “and zipping back and forth between quotidian considerations and musical ones all the time just meant that all that stuff was right there at the surface. I think that’s another reason it felt so easy to get that stuff into the music…or so hard to write about anything else.”

Previous Caribou albums have been defined by layered sonic bombast—perfect for the expansive festival settings Snaith has been playing in recent years—but Our Love explores a more refined and carefully considered aesthetic, one often defined as much by what’s not there as what is. “Silver” is a true vocal showcase, a rarity for Snaith, as he croons nimbly over sampled, fragmented R&B hooks and lean programming; meanwhile, the album’s musical centerpiece is the threadbare “Second Chance,” which subverts the norm of a modern urban-pop jam by stripping out the traditional sub-bass and beat, with guest singer Jessy Lanza moaning dreamy comeons during static synth pulses.

“Initially, I sent her the instrumental loop for the verse and chorus because I could imagine her doing something interesting with it, but I didn’t expect her to fit such a killer pop melody around it,” Snaith says of the collaborative track, which was finished through email swapping. “That was one of those special moments where the first time I heard it, I was just grinning like an idiot and knew that it was going to turn into something that I was really excited about.”

Our Love is a subtle yet substantive departure for one of alternative music’s most underappreciated innovators. And while the rest of the world is basking in the album’s radiance, Snaith himself remains ever humble—even somewhat embarrassed—explaining his newfound emotional clarity.

“In the past, I’ve edited out a lot of stuff that’s overtly emotional, thinking it crossed some invisible line,” he says. “And this time, drafts of several songs started out more stark and digital-sounding, and it didn’t seem to work with the general tone of the record, so they gradually warmed up as I worked on them.

“It remains to be seen whether I’ve crossed that invisible line this time,” he concludes. “Maybe it’s that no one has told me yet.”