“You saw me at my worst,” Zach Condon croons amid the jazz-pop march of “Perth,” alluding to a mental and physical breakdown he experienced after an Australian show in 2013. It’s heavy subject matter, and Condon doesn’t avert his gaze. But No No No, the songwriter’s fourth LP as Beirut, mostly belies that darkness with radiant hooks and grooves, inspired by the buzz of a new romance. Condon’s early albums—like his 2007 breakout, The Flying Club Cup—excelled by weaving international folk into baroque melodrama. No No No is equally ambitious but way more accessible: See the snuggly sophisti-pop of “Gibraltar,” the title-track’s Wurlitzer sunshine or the tempo-shifting soft-rock daydream “Fener.” Here, his therapy is overdubbing, with elegant instrumentation (brass and woodwinds, an arsenal of keys and percussion, his reliable ukulele) that never distracts from that boyish vocal vibrato. “I want to say you’re mine,” Condon sings on closer “So Allowed,” chased by a waltzing parade of strings and horns. It’s the sound of healing.