Unlike many bands that release notable debut albums and then take years to deliver a follow-up, got out as quickly as possible after their lengthy tour for . Good thing, too; the two years between their debut and this album were long enough for the expectations for -- and the backlash against -- a new album to reach formidable proportions. And sound like they have a lot to prove on , not to their naysayers, but to themselves. On the surface, the album isn't drastically different than , but it's not predictable. Instead of delivering an album's worth of s, s, and expands on their debut's off-kilter and complex tracks, like and The album's first single, signals ' intent: its whistling, synth-like guitars and handclaps are undeniably catchy, but at first, the song seems to be searching for a structure. Eventually, though, it becomes sneakily addictive -- it's a stealth song. Likewise, the album opens with on which snarls "I wanna be forgotten/And I don't wanna be reminded" -- not exactly the likeliest start to what should be a triumphant second album from one of the most celebrated bands of the 2000s. In many ways, is ' bid to be taken seriously, which may be why they began this album with producer before returning to producer . To his credit, gives the album its own sound: it's brighter and fuller than 's low-rent production. also has a distinct attitude. sounded effortless, but it's evident that a great deal of effort was put into . Yet the album's most crafted moments are its most exciting: a playful, poignant look back at a love triangle, lopes along to a beat (and features the witty lyrics "So many fish there in the sea/I wanted her/He wanted me"). an awkwardly gorgeous homage to '60s , is possibly the best song yet. Several songs recapture some of 's exuberance; not surprisingly, they're the ones that the band wrote while on tour. revs on one of their most riffs; 's -like bassline and shimmery guitars add some style to its underlying sleaze. However, are a different band than when they recorded , and 's best songs acknowledge that. There's a weariness lingering around like stale smoke, especially on a loop of a song about a nagging breakup that repeats its seemingly nonsensical title in a surprisingly affecting way. meanwhile, sounds like a long night of partying turned sour. "Please don't slow me down if I'm going too fast," wails (most of 's distortion comes from his vocals, which give the impression that he's gargled with turpentine and brushed his teeth with steel wool for the past two years). The motif of moving too fast and not minding it winds through , reflecting its svelte 33-minute running time as well as the swiftness of ' career. This compressed feel, the precision of the band's playing and arrangements, and the way every song comes to an abrupt stop sometimes make the album sound too closed-off. 's best moments fight against this tendency and suggest that are continuing to grow, perhaps beyond what their listeners want from them. Some may gripe that it's never as good as the first time, but shows that even after all that happened to , they can still surprise. ~ Heather Phares