Chad Perrone's songbook reads and sounds like a journal set to music. Unabashedly candid, poignant and, above all, laced with optimism, the Boston-based singer-songwriter's music hits emotions that resonate with the audiences that flock to venues to soak in the words. And that's precisely what Perrone's music is. It's his life -- his worst days, his hopes, and the fears and loves that have come with experience and insight. For Perrone, songwriting is a way of sorting through the thoughts in his mind, capturing a moment or an emotion, and setting that to melody. The result is the sound of a singer-songwriter completely opening himself to whatever may come. "When I write, it's no holds barred. I don't censor myself," Perrone says. "So many of the songs are just me, picking myself apart." Perrone has spent more than eight years earning the reputation of an artist who brings audience emotions right to the surface, establishing himself as a noted voice in the Boston music scene. Through residencies at intimate local hideaways and nights before sold-out crowds at Boston's famed Paradise Rock Club and Avalon, Perrone has fused bonds with audiences, honed his craft -- and picked up a 2005 Boston Music Award nomination for Best Local Male Vocal along the way. But his approach to musicianship is one that begins away from any stage. Perrone is more songwriter-singer than the other way around, seeking the honesty and clarity in music that can otherwise seem difficult to find. "Writing a song is all the best parts of music," Perrone says. "You catch onto something and it's new, it's fresh, it's exciting. And when you're able to piece a song together, play it from start to finish for the first time, it's amazing. I want to run out and grab someone, get them to listen." A collection of 13 songs came together in a recording studio last year to form "Used To Dream," Perrone's debut solo effort. A collaboration with musician Steve Belleville, musician/producer Dennis Carroll (6Media Group) and guest appearances from 10 local music talents, the songs flourished in an organic recording process focused more on the feeling of a take than glossy production. "Glen Phillips, Ray LaMontagne, Griffin House, Joseph Arthur, Ryan Adams, Damien Rice -- when you listen to their songs, they just feel completely honest," he says. "I'm not listening to the technical details, the recording process. I get lost in the feeling of the song. I feel a connection to it. There's something alive about it." Perrone discovered that the imperfections that arise in the recording process can actually feel perfect for a song, capturing the emotion and intent he imagined when he first set the words to paper. With that in mind, Perrone was free to explore the possibilities inherent in each song."Used To Dream" features both a return to the basics -- including Perrone's return to the percussion skills he first learned as a youth -- and the ability for seasoned musicians to introduce new elements -- mandolin, banjo and slide guitar, among them -- into songs. A songwriter brought up on and well-versed in pop rock, Perrone stretched "A Soundtrack (For the Happier Times)" into a languid torch song that drips with the blues and soul as it examines jealousy and circumstance. The haunting harmonies that soar through "What Comes Up Through the Floor" proves to defy conventional song structure entirely. It's a song without a chorus, but a deceptive one -- lush and menacingly dark. "I like the fact that it's a dark and creepy song. It's one of the most different songs I've written," Perrone says, "but one that completely summed up what I wanted it to say." Perrone balances the dark introspection with a charm listeners have long come to know -- saucy, sweet and self-conscious all at the same time. In "Somewhere Beside Me," he sings of a love that lingers through snapshots from his past, noting with a hint of pop-backed self-deprecation that "you're more than a picture I still try to flirt with." "Lie," likewise, highlights the backwards glance one casts at the end of a relationship, one that needs to end with deception in order to spare both parties involved. The frustrated lyrics, however, are cast against bright instrumentation -- demonstrating Perrone's ability to create multi-layered listening experiences. At album's close, he brings it back to the basics -- guitar, voice, thoughts -- for "Like Riding a Bike," his most personal, vulnerable song to date. "I don't want to be here in ten years, living off handouts and hand-me-down dreams," he quietly sings. "If I left for California tomorrow, could you say that I left you with anything, honestly?" Somewhere along the way, an album of songs that needed to come out became the album to mark a new stage of Perrone's career. Audiences in live settings throughout the Northeast are already feeling the connection, demonstrated through strong word-of-mouth support and an avid on-line community dedicated to sharing the music. The fans that approach the musician to share their thoughts and appreciation serve as a testament to his musical longevity -- they are new listeners and those who have been there since Perrone's first concert in March 1998. Perrone describes the response as "an amazing, wonderful thing" for someone who, as a young boy, was often found belting out songs to imaginary crowds in his living room. "That's the thing that amazes me," he says. "Back then, that was such a dream of mine. And there are time it's just such a surreal experience, I almost think I'm going to realize I'm still dreaming."