More than a decade later, that return led to his sophomore Wilderness album, “Zombies on Broadway,” which McMahon, 34, recorded mostly in New York. Released in February, the album delivers the pulsating piano and intimate lyrics that are McMahon’s trademark, but “Zombies” is full of technical experimentation and even a danceable song with spoken-word verses: “Brooklyn, You’re Killing Me” (“I keep waking up on fire beneath this low-rise second city that’s turning good men into liars,” he chants).

“What I’m always trying to do with my songwriting is chart where I am and the moment in my life that I’m residing in,” McMahon says. “The underlying theme became reconciling this side of my nature that’s predisposed toward late nights and drinking too much and maybe having more fun than I’m supposed to for a man my age. The city brings that side of me to the surface. A lot of this record was about getting my head around that and trying to get it under control.”

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McMahon wrote much of “Zombies” while touring to promote his first, self-titled Wilderness album, when the single “Cecilia and the Satellite” — named for his daughter, born in 2014 — was ascending the alt rock charts. That success created a sense of celebration that’s obvious in new songs like “Fire Escape” and “Shot Out of a Cannon,” he says. But it’s juxtaposed with “a sense of tension and anxiety [about] whether or not this third round of my career was going to succeed — and in tracks like ‘So Close,’ I’m either teetering on the brink of something really great or something disastrous,” he says.

The past and present will collide when McMahon performs at the Fillmore on Friday: The setlist promises a “Zombies”-heavy show, with Jack’s Mannequin and Something Corporate favorites sprinkled in. “I try, every tour, to one-up myself and transport the audience as much as possible,” he says. The lively performer’s signature moves include jumping off his piano, pounding the keys with his Chuck Taylors and crowdsurfing the room in a giant yellow inflatable duck.

“Especially as global politics and the state of daily life has gotten so … just everyone on different pages, there’s a commitment to give people a space where they can step outside that for a second and feel a sense of magic,” he says.

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McMahon marked 11 years cancer-free in August, thanks to a life-saving bone marrow transplant. His organization, the Dear Jack Foundation — which supports adolescents and young adults with cancer — will have a booth at all “Zombies” stops to swab people for the National Marrow Donor Program’s registry. “We’ve had more than 6,000 people stop by and do a cheek swab, and more than 60 have been told they’re a match for a cancer patient,” McMahon says.