The Futureheads, The Chaos

The Futureheads are possessed by a rage for order. You can hear it in the band's gleaming, compact songs, which give the impression of a Saab Turbo veering purposefully right at you. Their classic 2004 debut, with its ping-ponging vocal harmonies and rigidly interlocking guitar figures, upped the ante for tight-assedness in U.K. new wave, never the most laid-back of sub-genres, by revving up the speed while clamping down even harder on loose ends. The result was like observing Marine recruits high-step their way through a field full of tires. Or, perhaps a more fitting image for a band that bragged with manic, clipped efficiency about being robots is the little scrubbing-clean droid from Wall-E. Everything was in its right place, goddammit, and woe betide the stray thread that found itself sitting outside the lines.

The personality type capable of this music seldom makes a good party guest, and the Futureheads of 2004 had no time for inefficiencies like politeness: "You thought that I was joking/ When I said you were a moron/ When I said it I was smiling/ That doesn't mean that I was joking," ran a typically charming sentiment. Their following records, the mellower, more nuanced News & Tributes and This Is Not the World, weren't bad, exactly, but there was the deflating sense that when these smartasses mellowed out, they were about as normal as the drones they used to mock so effectively.

The Chaos, their latest full-length, splits the difference. The sprung-tight tempos are back, but the bitter gall is left behind. In the process, they hit upon a new mode: manically compassionate. "I Can Do That" seems to be about an older man who is struggling to get back into the work force after losing his job: "The power of persuasion is lost on the young/ I wish I still had it, I know I'm clinging on" he laments. Six years ago, this poor sap would have been the butt of a joke, but here he's the hero, struggling against massive odds to maintain his dignity: "I'm standing in this queue just to prove that I am not a joke," he avers. The chorus, meanwhile, surges forward with the sugar-rush force of old, but this time it's positively heartwarming.

The record continues on in this "kinder, gentler Futureheads" vein. The chorus for "Struck Dumb" could be read as a tender missive to their younger, more arrogant selves: "The negativity is ruining your sleep/ It makes you want to cry on your pillow." "The Heartbeat Song" is just that — a big, mushy wet kiss of a love song, with the kind of straightforward sentiments ("When we speak, I find it hard to think straight/ Especially when there's no one else around") that the younger band might have found cringe-worthy. Luckily, they haven't missed a trick musically: the tumbling, quicksilver backing vocals and XTC-tinged melodies are as exhilarating as ever. And they haven't gone completely soft: "It's so good to see that smile/ on your miserable face," goes a line to the sardonically titled "This Is The Life." The humane smartasses: The look fits them, and suggests that the band will find a way to age gracefully without losing their edge.