GBV spins raw silk from the very same thread, yet again, on its probably-17th studio album. But didn’t these bedroom/garage-recording cult favorites/geniuses already exhibit a deft return to form with early 2012's Let's Go Eat the Factory? How is it possible that there’s already another new album with more than 20 obscurely titled songs from the Dayton, Ohio–based indie rock act, just six months later? How many times can Bob Pollard mine the same collage of Swell Maps and The Who, throwing obscure, early R.E.M.-ish lyrics atop stunted anthems that instantly make listeners want to hear the same song over and over? Granted, GBV and Pollard himself have made a few missteps here and there, but there’s hardly one on this album, which just might be the aesthetic equal of 1995's Alien Lanes. The album—recorded with the classic mid-‘90s lineup—is named for a song first released on 2009’s Suitcase 3 collection. Originally one of the group’s biggest downers, it returns here as a jaunty, McCartney/ELO-style hand-clapper.