Eighteen years ago, Beaver Nelson was rudely dropped from his second major label deal, with not one album to show for his time in the corporate music trenches. In June 2012, Nelson released the self-produced, Kickstarter-funded Macro/Micro, a fiercely independent record that was, as its creator admits, "a long time coming."

Nelson is an underdog Texas songwriter whose music is characterized by ever-shifting artistic tides and a meticulous, literate brand of lyricism that often straddles the line, if there is one to speak of, between absurdist humor and bleak tragedy. He is no stranger to prolificness, having once released five full-length albums in a seven-year period. Yet Macro/Micro arrives after a five-year break.

"I decided, for whatever reason—for a host of reasons—to slow down, to get out of a hurry," Nelson says.

The guitarist began to write songs on piano, which he describes as a welcome challenge. "I would hear something, but I couldn't play it. Then I would have to learn how to play it, and then I'd have to decide whether it was what I wanted."

Working in isolation, Nelson recalls "hearing the music in a clearer way, a more complicated way." The songs he was composing were not the relatively straightforward ones he was used to: "I was writing things I could not play."

Nelson describes Macro/Micro as having not a narrative but rather a "psychological arc," and the album's dense, interwoven tracks indeed reflect the chaos of the mind. Rather than let his studio musicians (a group that included revered Austin sidemen like "Scrappy" Jud Newcomb and drummer Mark Patterson) in on the thought process behind each tune, Nelson chose to leave them to their own devices.

"I didn't want any sympathetic playing," he says. "I wanted as much juxtaposition as possible, where things come together and [fall] apart."

This multidimensional process begat layers of overdubs and improvisational inter-song segments, and resulted in a wide-ranging album that Nelson soon realized would be impossible to recreate in a traditional live setting.

But necessity is the mother, and the plan arose to remaster the record without the lead vocal and guitar parts—the idea being that Nelson would insert those elements live. The final touch came courtesy filmmaker Stephen Henderson, who assisted in making an album-length movie to be projected in conjunction with each performance.

"I expect that this live show will change and grow as I [do] it, night after night," Nelson says.

The man knows growth and change. Behind Macro/Micro and its accompanying live show is a shamanistic mission to uncover the unavoidable hypocrisy endemic to humankind and a call that we all strive for clearer focus.

"It's the acknowledgment of limitations that eventually frees oneself from self-absorption," he says sagely. "You can [say], 'I know I'm not omniscient, I know I will eventually lose virility, I know I eventually will get sick and die.' But you don't live like you know that until life forces you [to]. And then you go, 'God, I knew that was coming. That sucks.' The more you're prepared for it, the quicker you can more through it with some sort of grace and dignity, and without the self-absorption that is caused when someone is wholly unprepared to lose something."

Nelson laughs when asked about his own progress in this area. "It depends on who you ask. I think so... At the same time, this is not like a giving up, or anything. I fight entropy way harder than I did when I was younger… But now, it's more out of an appreciation for what opportunities exist, as opposed to the fear that I won't be important."

This honesty is at the center of Macro/Micro, a record that is bold because it must be; Nelson wants to get people talking, because he, too, has something to say.

"I want to be part of a conversation," he says. "And I don't mean people talking about me. I mean, I want to be a part of the conversation. It interests me, the great conversation that has always gone on, and always will go on."