Carnality and rock 'n' roll have been intertwined since the beginning, from Elvis' swoon-inducing hips through Zeppelin's "shark incident," Madonna's nudie photo book and Janet Jackson's wardrobe malfunction. A comprehensive list of such things would be longer than a Russian novel and include hundreds if not more artists.

Indeed, for all the musicians who've made rock and pop resonate on genuinely artistic levels, the idea of "sex" — whether as subject matter or as tangential gratification — is almost omnipresent.

In that spirit, consider "Uncomfortably Unsure," the new album by New London's Pocket Vinyl, the forward-thinking art-pop duo comprising pianist/singer/composer Eric Stevenson and his wife, visual artist Elizabeth Jancewicz. The recording is a 23-tune conceptual work with a structure that recalls everything from Brian Wilson's "Smile" to Sufjan Stevens' "Illinois" to Apples in Stereo's "New Magnetic Wonder" — and it's completely about Sex with a capital "S."

Pocket Vinyl celebrates "Uncomfortably Unsure" with a release party Friday at 33 Golden Street in New London.  

But crowing titillation, rhyming innuendo and ribald anecdotes are not remotely at play here. Stevenson says "Uncomfortably Unsure" is in fact a "non-sexy album about sex." It's a quasi-autobiographical song cycle in which Stevenson puts his own sexual experiences and preconceptions under a pop-song microscope and scrutinizes them against a lifetime's latticework of culture, religion and moral thought, action and philosophy.

Forget for a moment the album's masterfully tuneful hooks and melodies, though "Uncomfortably Unsure" demonstrates Stevenson, who has a sparkling penchant for Ben Folds-meets-Randy Newman (if they wrote for musical theater), at his most poised and confident. Instead, ponder confessional quality of the CD on tunes such as "Seeing Your Reflection in the Baptism Water," "A Great White Shark is Gnawing Through the Limbs of Myself," and "That Feeling In The Depths Of Your Soul When Dancing Nervously With Her For the First Time."

"There's no shortage of sex songs in music," says the always-cheerful and eloquent Stevenson in a phone call last week, "but a lot of those are in the partying context. I have no interest in that. Ultimately, for me, it comes down to a bigger-picture situation. If you're honest with your art, more often than not people will respond to it."

On an earlier concept album, "Death Anxiety," Pocket Vinyl explored Stevenson's fear of mortality partially as a therapeutic exercise. "Death is something I'm very scared of," he told The Day about that CD in 2015. "But I find that it's something that serves no function. My fear of death doesn't make me live longer, it seems to make me do less stuff and take less chances in life and I just want to get rid of it completely. And I've definitely alleviated a bit of that but it's still there."

Thematically, Stevenson wanted to raise those stakes with "Uncomfortably Unsure."

"I thought sex would be an interesting thing to write an album about because I don't have any songs about sex," he says, "and I had to wonder why that was. I thought about it on a lot of levels, and I decided that, if I was going to do it, I'd have to address a lot of issues."

One topic centers around the fact that Stevenson didn't lose his virginity until he was 25. That means he had plenty of time to speculate (and worry) on the variety of teachings, advice and hype of Sex from sources as diverse as family, religion, television and film, school, pornography, music and a culture swirling with sensuality.

On a recent tour wherein Pocket Vinyl tried out material, he says he'd preface songs with comments about the new songs.

"One very good show, with a very quiet college crowd, I made a joke about not losing my virginity till I was 25, and a voice from the audience said, "Holy s___!" Stevenson laughs.

"Even growing up in a Christian home, that seems very late," he says. "But I don't think anyone would say it's wrong to lose your virginity at 25. Still, I thought, 'Am I weird? Did no one like me or want me?' That represents a lot of baggage and assumptions about weird rules or expectations. If I'd lost my virginity at 17, would that have been too late, too? To some people, maybe."

Once Stevenson had addressed that fact in a song, he thought he might be onto the theme and texture of the album.

"This is vulnerable stuff, but I didn't think I could make the album on this subject unless I was putting myself out there," he says. "So I ended up with a lot of 'I' songs. But that means I'm asking whether anyone else out there feels the same way."

Stevenson credits Jancewicz, whose paintings often reflect insecurities or doubts, for his ability to open himself up in sometimes painful ways. He also thanks his older brother, Kyle, who's also a visual artist.

"They've taught me that if you're making art that makes you uncomfortable, then you're on the right track," he says. "I've learned that, if I write songs that make me worried when I'm going to play them for people, that resonates with me. Not in a sadistic sense, but in a learning sense. And maybe it's just as simple as why not make an album about something we're taught from childhood not to talk about. That might interest people."

Longtime fans of Pocket Vinyl will hear the album and at once recognize Stevenson's innate and instantly catchy style. At the same time, the songs have a bit of a more sophisticated if conventional blueprint and, throughout the album, the band's typically sparse sound is fuller and richer thanks to the bass and drums contributions of Marc Bryan. "He's a really good friend and we regard his input as our secret weapon," Stevenson says.

Jancewicz's musical input is not to be overlooked, either. A lot of the band's followers think that Stevenson provides the sound and Jancewicz's paintings — which are auctioned off at the end of each concert and provide a lot of the financial support for their frequent tours — are simply a visual component.

"That's all true to an extent and onstage," Stevenson says. "But everything I write goes through the filter of Elizabeth. There's a lot about the music that she's influenced or simply changed. We have such a great chemistry together."

As for the specific subject matter of "Uncomfortably Unsure," Jancewicz says, "I'm just glad that this album is coming out at a time when sex and women's experiences are part of the global conversation, and I'm proud of Eric for addressing the issue."

It's been a busy several months for Pocket Vinyl. Late last year, they released a documentary DVD, "Drive. Play. Sleep," which captures life in an indie rock band through the prism of a year on the road with Stevenson and Jancewicz. Now, after the release party for "Uncomfortably Unsure," Pocket Vinyl heads back out on another national tour.

"This is a small band with a small fan base," Stevenson says. "But it's a very loyal fan base across the country, and they come out every time, and they're rooting for us rather than watching and listening passively. And at least part of that, I hope and believe, is that I am writing vulnerable songs that connect."

Pocket Vinyl CD Release Party, 9 p.m. Friday, 33 Golden St., New London; $5, CDs available for $10 as well as a variety of new merchandise; (860) 443-1193, pocketvinyl.com.