Wherever you go, there you are. It’s a familiar adage to anyone who’s ever tried to outrun their demons, but it feels particularly cruel for a traveling musician like Noah Rauchwerk. Thanks to his work as a touring drummer with artists like Samia and Willow Avalon, Noah’s days are chopped up between long drives, crowded venues, and strange hotels. His years are chopped up between monthslong nationwide tours and sporadic, meandering stays back in New York and New Jersey while he waits to leave again.

“I’m home and I’m away from home,” he explains. “And every time, I promise myself ‘When I’m home, I’ll finally do this.’ Or ‘When I’m back on tour, I’ll finally do that.’”

This sense of lacking a permanent home permeates much of Shark River, Rauchwerk’s second album for his artist project Wormy. The album isn’t unlike a tour itself, full of hyper-detailed vignettes sewn together by introspective, window-gazing musings on life, love, and regret. In “Cocaine Bear,” Rauchwerk contemplates his own death in between trips to Costco and aimless movie marathons during a day off on tour. In “27 Days,” he questions the future of a brief but intimate relationship he leaves behind in a foreign country. And in “I Hate You,” he laments the fragmented nature of adult relationships as people recede into their busy lives.

Skillful production and backing vocals from his bandmates Renny Conti and Samia Finnerty drench most of the record in a sepia-toned indie glow complete with the occasional pedal steel, but Rauchwerk’s vocals betray his fondness for emo-leaning folk luminaries like Bright Eyes and the Mountain Goats. Sometimes, his singing feels more or less like melodic speaking, a friend telling you about a hard day over a couple of beers; other times, you can feel his panic as he shouts into the microphone.

The album asks many of the questions that haunt people as they grow shakily into adulthood. Will I ever find love that endures? Will my friend ever call me back? What’s the difference between building a life and just living a life? But amidst the self-doubt and regret that flow through Shark River, there are glimmers of optimism that keep Rauchwerk afloat. Even when he’s singing about giving up, you get the feeling he never will — that part of a life in motion is the understanding that you keep moving forward. Eventually, you’ll get home.