Four years after their breakthrough sophomore effort, New Orleans hardcore punk outfit return with their self-titled third album. While not a complete reinvention -- as the title would suggest -- is a step forward in maturity and songcraft, a collection of hard-hitting and melodic anthems that sound like the artsy hardcore of colliding with the disillusionment and frustration from 's "Longview," then punched in the face by the bloody knuckles of an unwashed and grimy fist. Raw and raucous, the album surprises with lyrical substance and emotional depth, a reflective and hopeless pain coursing beneath the simplicity of the songs themselves. Frontman is the heart of it all, his vocals delivering whiplash to each track with crazed screams, lightning-speed fury, and passionate pleading for anything but this life. On "Nervous," he's resigned to fate, singing "I don't wanna be angry/but I'll never feel open again" and later, on "Daughter," he cries, "I'll never have a daughter/and I'll never fall in love." Facing inevitable aging with aplomb, he realizes, "I never considered I'd survive my liver/just to worry about my knees" on "Traveling Time." Despite the miserable introspection -- in typical fashion -- they execute everything with a biting wit that prevents this collection from plunging into woe-is-me misery territory (interpolated '90s one-hit wonders "Tubthumping" and the "Macarena" even find their ways into the mix). On the ode to bed, "Naptime," quips "I am a king/but I sleep in a twin" as the band -- , , and -- rages at breakneck speed. From the loser anthem "Zero Wheels" to the woes of living month-to-month ("Rich to Rags") and the dangers of self-sabotaging ("Killing Me"), offers an endless selection of relatable content, shining a light on depression, fear, self-esteem, and mortality. For all the talk of being dredged from the pits of society, are so endearing and charming that they at least make hard living sound bearable. Delivering a jolt of energy with a side of harsh truth, finds the quartet at the top of their game. ~ Neil Z. Yeung