If you aren’t able to even crack a smile over the jocular first verse of Hippies, Harlem’s animated new release, “Someday soon you’ll be on fire and you’ll ask me for a glass of water, and I’ll say no, you can just let that shit burn,” perhaps this album isn’t really for you. The Austin, Texas trio are tenaciously flippant throughout their vigorous second record (and first for Matador Records), tearing through 16 lively tracks in a scant 39 minutes without ever once pausing to glance back (even though their sound is decidedly retro) or look ahead. The band seems to be entirely rooted in having a good time right now, and not giving a damn about how you got here or how you’re getting home. And while their simple, breezy songs sound a bit too uniform as the album plays out,Hippies represents an unwavering dedication to lighthearted, enjoyable garage-rock that proves to be charming simply because the band isn’t trying too hard.

After the tongue-in-cheek opener of ‘Someday Soon,’ the band ratchets up the energy on ‘Friendly Ghost,’ a dynamic, propulsive number that encapsulates everything that is appealing about the band within its energetic three minutes: quirky, farcial lyrics (“I live in a graveyard…yeah, I’m just as see-through as Casper the Ghost”), a simple but urgently catchy hook, and a natural, uncomplicated spirit that permeates all their songs. And while there isn’t a lot of depth or range to their music, that sort of artful maturity is not what the band is after anyway. This is the same group that named their debut Free Drugs ;-) (emoticon included), after all.

These songs are the perfect soundtrack for the moment when a gathering slowly becomes a party; when the guests have finally consumed enough booze to start telling some embarrassing stories instead of simply posturing and trying to impress the cool kids. The lack of pretension and polish on Hippies is precisely what makes the record engaging and appealing in the first place. And while we’ve certainly heard elements of that crude but effective formula countless times before (most recently with the Black Lips, Girls, and Strange Boys), there is enough distinctive vibrancy in these songs to keep Harlem from sounding too much like these other bands who have graduated from the garage to grander stages and glossy magazine covers.

The tracks themselves chug by swiftly, never digging in too deeply nor pausing to reflect, with ‘Number One,’ ‘Be Your Baby’ and ‘Gay Human Bones’ sounding like bygone radio staples if not for the cursing and somewhat contentious subject matter. ‘Torture Me’ is the bands ramshackle ode to Nirvana, while ‘Faces’ has an infectious bounce reminiscent of the Archies. And while the breathless brevity of the album is part of its appeal, the second half of the record lags a bit under the strain of similarity, with one song’s uncomplicated arrangements tending to sound indistinguishable from the next. But the stellar combination of the feisty ‘Stripper Sunset’ and the clamorous force of ‘Pissed’ saves the end of the album from being mostly forgettable. Thankfully the band plays things loose throughout, injecting each of these numbers with a singular energy even if they tend to sound alike after a while. Harlem’s stark, bare compositions and breakneck instrumentation prove to be magnetic and ultimately irresistible, able to get even the staunchest wallflower to move something in time to the relentless rhythms. And no matter what kind of soiree you find yourself at, the striking songs on Hippies will certainly augment the affair and add some spice to any conversation, especially if free drugs were dispensed at the door.