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So suck it up, because in truth, Albini's presence is a mixed blessing: His dampening sonic cloth would be much less frustrating if he hadn't also goaded the band into outpacing itself, even toughening up a tad. The kids who serenaded their kitties on "Little Friends" dig in so convincingly on "Ferocious" and "We Shot the World" that none dare call them twee, son. And that new attitude firms up their us-against-the-world stance: last time "Let's Kill Ourselves" served as a slyly backhanded call to camaraderie; here, Ian Adams (who's since, regrettably, taken his Peter Perrett imitation elsewhere) empathetically wonders, "Are you afraid to seem retarded/When you go outside and do the things you do?" on the Agoraphobe Liberation anthem "I'm With You." And hell, maybe Albini even helped Jered Gummere learn to temper the jaded gloat of Richard Hell with the urbane romanticism of Tom Verlaine. The singer's fervent crackle on the bridge of "Glass Conversation" mixes desperation, empathy, and snottiness in the kind of precisely effective proportion that indicates the proximity of some hard-assed vet in the booth who knows a killer vocal take when he hears it.