Philip Cogley, the sole creative force behind one-man band the Saturday Giant, is a bit of a road warrior.

Philip Cogley, the sole creative force behind one-man band the Saturday Giant, is a bit of a road warrior.

When the singer-songwriter visited Rumba Cafe for a concert on a recent Saturday, it marked his 194th performance of 2014. Assuming winter weather doesn’t upend his schedule, he’ll fly past number 200 before we hit Thanksgiving. For this reason, it felt particularly appropriate Cogley displayed some of his gear (a laptop, mixer, etc.) in a pair of vintage suitcases — the perfect grab-and-go setup for a musician on the move.

In the past year, I’ve seen Cogley adopt a number of musical guises, with the singer taking the stage as both Rivers Cuomo (fronting Weezer cover band the Pinkertones) and Freddie Mercury (Queen tribute Mr. Fahrenheit & the Loverboys). The Saturday Giant, in contrast, generally eschewed these big, sing-along choruses, with Cogley crafting intricate, looped worlds of serrated guitar, beatboxing, keyboards and more.

Opener “The Fix” set the tone for the hour-long set, with the singer utilizing a mixer and loop pedals to gradually construct a densely layered, percussive backdrop. Atop this beat-heavy soundscape, Cogley delivered insular lines about staunching the bleeding and living with the sting of regret. Rather than soaring above the mix, however, he tended to sing in hushed tones, his words encased cocoon-like in the varied instrumentation.

Throughout, Cogley showed signs of some advanced form of musical ADD, and it wasn’t unusual for individual songs to move through three or four distinct permutations, coming across like ever-mutating organisms. On two different occasions the frontman touched on his wandering focus — once purposely in his stage banter (“I salute your attention span”) and once by chance in song. “Got a short little span of attention,” he sang on a warped, wondrous cover of Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al.”

Despite the reliance on technology, there was never a doubt these sounds were being crafted by human hands, and the underlying emotions bled through in every note. This was particularly true of a stripped-down, guitar-and-vocals take on “You Are My Sunshine,” which Cogley performed in tribute to his grandmother, who died recently, transforming his obvious sadness into uplifting sounds that had a way of parting even the stormiest of clouds.