Grandaddy sing about a world full of missed opportunities. It’s a place where ex-girlfriends cry by their ovens, men leave and office workers finally discover all the meaning they have craved in the beauty of the humble dragonfly. This isn’t music to change the world; this is music that reflects on the world.

Gentle melodies are paired with distorted guitars, chugging beats, and a winsome, contemplative mood. The atmosphere is warm, but Jason Lytle’s words are almost always plaintive. On ‘The Group Who Couldn’t Say’, he tells of the employees who had “won some kind of prize/For selling way more stuff than the other guys/They were the shrewdest unit-movers/So their bosses got them tours of the countryside”.

With lyrics so striking, it’s a shame Grandaddy can’t quite cut it on the music front. Their songs are floaty, über-subtle affairs, some of which sound eerily similar to each other. At times, the band walk a fine line between the seductive and the stultifying.

On the plus side, Grandaddy are no slouches when it comes to arrangement. Every track on this album is beautifully executed, with inventive touches adding momentum and depth to the songs.

All told, people who already like Grandaddy will doubtless love this album. But those who prefer their music to sound less like it wears britches, dentures and braces would be best advised to look elsewhere.

Good, but not exceptional.