When speaking about Manchester Orchestra’s newest album “Simple Math,” lead singer Andy Hull outlined the concept of the album as being a way to work through the problems he and his wife faced in their first two years of marriage, therein lies the problem. “Simple Math” finds Hull writing some of the most honest lyrics he has written in his atmospheric explosion of a career. Every song seems to be written with his wife in mind restraining some of the raw violence and aggression that made Manchester’s previous albums so incredible.

Now that Hull has found a target to aim for with his wicked and sharp lyrics, the concepts behind the songs have been honed down considerably, though not necessarily a good thing. Gone are the bombastic anthems such as “I’ve Got Friends” and “The River” as well as the snarling angst of “100 Dollars” and “Pride” of previous release “Mean Everything to Nothing.” However there is a different type of power to be found on “Simple Math.” After some halfhearted self-depreciation on “Deer” and a drunken sing-along in “Pensacola,” the album begins to develop its teeth in “Pale Black Eye.” The song begins with a laugh and guitar licks that bring to mind Thin Lizzy and then the listener is startled when the name of Hull’s wife Amy is directly referenced. The song takes a dark turn as Hull’s cracking scream begs Amy to “bleed your pain / into me” before directly stating “goddamn I’m tired of lying / I wish I loved you like I used to.” It is at this point in the album that the listener is the most emotionally invested. The song that follows, “Virgin,” is one of the darkest on the album, employing a children’s choir to hauntingly sing the chorus in a manner more akin to a meat hook than a pop one.

The title track is next and is the most orchestral and epic-sounding song on the record. From a beginning that starts in whispers before building to a mind-shattering crescendo, the song crushes and poignant lyrics float between the layered violins and wonderfully distorted guitars. But after this emotional peak, the album’s remaining few songs are merely satisfactory. There aren’t any catchy hooks or emotional peaks that make the closing of Manchester’s earlier albums so incredibly memorable. The final few songs serve as a vehicle for Hull’s angst to gain closure, as per the concept album story arc, but there is little past that for the listener.

But that seems to be the point of the album; it wasn’t written for the fans, the label or anyone but the people writing the songs. After achieving this level of recognition, many bands put out an albums full of self-indulgent pandering for the more mainstream fan base. But Manchester Orchestra has defied those expectations by producing an album more deeply personal and more honest than it has ever done before. Although upon reaching the conclusion of the record, it may come off as restrained, it has to be. Had Hull spent the record’s entirety screaming until he was coughing up blood, he likely would have found himself divorced and alone. Manchester Orchestra created the only record it could have made, and in spite of its flaws and scars, it still stands as a solid rock ‘n’ roll record and a testament to the staying power of this young band.