Sophisti-pop fans, rejoice. A long braise in the music of Westerman is a satisfying flirtation with the present dearth of that early-’80s genre with its specific, satin-smooth, melt-in-your-mouth, cocktail-party-ready polish. With a voice like ganache on a double boiler and a tone as tony as Roxy Music’s swan songs on Avalon, Your Hero is Not Dead feels restorative because of its woozy decadence — a lot like nudity against a pima sheet set, crème liqueur on ice, or squashing an expensive macaron between two fingers out of boredom.