“We’re all stuck out in the desert and we’re gonna die!” Coming through the speakers sounding like some strange love child of The Pixies and Country Joe And the Fish, it’s the feel bad hit of the season. What I mean is, it’s doomsday pop you can dance to. It is at once old and new, like a coyote slinking past a gay bar. Then, after that, it’s the dumb stomp of the title track, which makes you think about a more hi-fi Crazy Horse playing way behind the beat and spreading all over the map. “I know I don’t belong singin a worthless freedom song. It’s all a waste of time.” Is this a first? Is he protesting the protest song? Either way, alert Fox News and Moveon.Org and start slinging mud.

Whereas the first record tried to take on the world and a whole host of musical genres, this new album stays relentlessly focused on the song, the band, and that voice. The sound is warm and the words are at once hot and cold. It’s an optimistic apocalypse with something for you and your weird uncle. It’s consistently against the grain while staying true to that old Harvest, y’know?

Whatever you think about this record, there is a story here. The lyrics cut as deep as you let them, and even if you don’t pay attention to that sort of thing there are enough deep pockets and American guitars to keep you nodding your head in the drive through line. I don’t know if you people read these things or not. But I do hope you listen to this record. On some quality speakers. Not those shitty little earphones either.

Don’t judge a kid by his ringtone.