Austin’s The Black Angels lighten up considerably on their engrossing third LP, Phosphene Dream, infusing their new songs with an upbeat, primal confidence that is as refreshing a listen as it is a rewarding one. That’s not to say that the band has messed too much with their gritty, fuzzed-out formula that featured so potently on their stellar debut; but they’ve managed to smooth out the dark, gloomy corners of their sound considerably, giving these new songs a bristling pep that keeps the record from getting bogged down by the somewhat grim subject matter that has occasionally plagued their earlier work. The fact that the album is being released on the recently reborn, legendary blues label Blue Horizon, just magnifies its sense of urgency and significance.

The record gets off to a rollicking start with the grove-laden ‘Bad Vibrations,’ a glaring antithesis to the Beach Boys’ sunny number, with a venomous quality stealthily lurking beneath the hypnotic melody. This track, along with ‘Entrance Song,’ more than any others on the album, would fit perfectly into the moody atmospherics of Passover. But when the track completely comes unhinged during its wild, cacophonous finish, it signifies that the Black Angels have made a conscious shift in focus and have started to loosen up a bit with their tight, tense sound. If that objective wasn’t made quite clear on the opener, ‘Haunting At 1300 McKinley’ definitely drives the point home with its unbound, 60s-style Kinks-ish sound. And that relaxed, more adventurous methodology informs the entire record, making these songs just as catchy but ultimately a lot more fun than their predecessors.

‘Yellow Elevator’ has a bit of a surf-rock sound, complete with farcical, nonsensical lyrics that were featured on so many drug-addled hits of that era, but the song fares a lot better without its psychedelic breakdown that simply tries too hard to add significance to a song that doesn’t really need it. Thankfully, the band plays it free and easy on the raucous stomp of ‘Sunday Afternoon,’ which churns relentlessly during its brief run, and segues smoothly into the Steppenwolf-like sludge of ‘River Of Blood,’ which is filled with enough modern sonic flourishes to keep from sounding too dated.

The title track is all swagger and pub courage, with sprawling lyrics delivered fluidly by Alex Maas over a hypnotically tight groove, with the band also accentuating the song’s swirling, hallucinogenic undertones. Its a turbulent balance that the group somehow pulls off (and might not have earlier in their career), and is one of the many highlights of the album’s frenzied second half. After the somewhat muddled misstep of ‘True Believers,’ the album ends strongly with the garage-rock swing of ‘Telephone,’ which sashays like the confident, colorful strut of the Carnabetian Army, and ‘The Sniper,’ which seethes with the vitality that comes when ability finally catches up with one’s ambition. It’s a tremendously entertaining song, and closes out Phosphene Dream in an assured, striking fashion. While the last two records by the Black Angels surely have soundtracked many hazy smoke sessions, this new record is the sound of the shades finally being drawn, with the windows getting thrown open just as your friends arrive on holiday. Let some light in, for you can loosen up in many ways, as this album proves, and music, like life, shouldn’t always be so darkly serious.