If you didn’t listen too closely, you might mistake Brooklyn singer-songwriter Clarence Bucaro for a slightly deeper Jack Johnson or Ryan Adams; if you knew nothing but the hype, you might believe he’s a cross between Pretender-era Jackson Browne and the Van Morrison of Tupelo Honey.

Neither is quite true: This sometimes-local transplant is neither that facile, nor is he that sensitive and mystical. As his sixth, gently acoustic album (exquisitely rendered by producer Anders Osborne) proves, Bucaro’s more like a synthesis of late James Taylor and early Paul Simon: open-hearted, reassuring, yet not quite convinced that his romantic vagabonds are leading the quietly devastating lives he’d like them to. Mostly he’s just quiet: The gorgeousness radiating from titles like “New Sky,” “Summer Rain” and “Winter Blue” are as bucolic and yet remote as the landscapes they describe. Clarence knows life and love are complicated, but his happy endings keep giving themselves away.

None of which is to say that Dreaming from the Heart of New York doesn’t go well with your first cup of coffee. His inner warmth just can’t help but shine through in this spare setting, even when a lonely harmonica and a winter wind both flutter through some painful memories on the title track. “Curtis Mayfield” confirms that he spent some friendless nights in California listening to the Chicago soul master, but it doesn’t suggest why, or to what effect. He does best by admitting to his casual wistfulness on “Don’t Know Much About Love” and, ironically, it’s when he says the most; when his vocals get bluer and jazzier near the end of the album, he also suggests there may be some dark Nick Drake-style clouds passing over his sunny demeanor. Too often, though, his latest approach to contemporary pop-folk feels like an Instagram filter; it’s comfortable and familiar, but only a gloss on reality.