Rhye's Woman was a modest commercial success in 2013.

Its diaphanous sophisti-pop ballads struck a nerve with enough hip young romantics to land at number 55 in the U.S.

and almost scraped the Top Ten in Denmark, homeland of co-writer/co-producer Robin Hannibal.

Near the end of that year, driving force Michael Milosh released his fourth album as Milosh, but otherwise focused on performing and developing new material -- minus Hannibal -- for his newer outlet.

Five years later, after several hundred gigs and a featured appearance on Bonobo's "Break Apart" that tellingly credited him not under his surname but as Rhye, Milosh followed up with Blood.

Recorded with some of his backing group and with live drums among the vast assortment of Milosh's instrumental input, the album sounds marginally more organic, less like a production, than the debut.

The intimate, slinking mode is the same.

Slow-pulsing rhythms are decked out with finely arranged layers of sensitively played keyboards, strings, and woodwinds.

Milosh's voice, breathy as ever, rarely much above a dazed sigh, often blurs the line between arch and vulnerable.

His gentle pleadings and luring lines evoke lightheadedness, and at times lack enunciation, like he was just wheeled out of oral surgery and had his water laced with an aphrodisiac.

Maybe compromised faculties explain a higher number of peculiar requests, promises, and carnal bulletins like "Bring your songs to me, I'm not afraid to heal them," "I'll eat your memories," and "I'm coming fast, oh my god." A theme that gradually emerges is one of pushing misgivings aside to embrace a new relationship.

Like Woman, however, Blood is essentially mood music, and its nuances -- from string arrangements that create a sense of expectancy, to deftly rich basslines -- invite repeat play.