t’s been a while since we’ve heard anything from Erase Errata. Ever since their first album, Other Animals, unfairly got lumped into the misapprehended “dancepunk” movement, people haven’t really brought them up. Their second record, At Crystal Palace, attempted to expand their avant-pop/post-punk aesthetic but didn’t stand out as much as their debut. I saw the band perform around the time that At Crystal Palace was released, and thought I saw something that was bound to be really big: four girls who play really tight, bracingly experimental post-punk with intense, left-field turns. To boot, Jenny Hoyston was a punk female lead singer who wasn’t unbearable or imitative of almost every other riot-grrl.

And then…nothing. Erase Errata haven’t released anything in three years and now they return with Nightlife, which I doubt, in the blogger-fast world of indie rock, anybody will really care about for long. And they’ll probably forget about ‘em again, because Nightlife isn’t all that different or refreshing from what they’ve already given us.

Some things have changed since At Crystal Palace, the most ascertainable of which is their production. The tinny, scraping guitars and lack of low-end on their previous two outings have been replaced by a meatier, bigger sound, with Ellie Erickson’s bass, the band’s secret weapon, becoming more pronounced. Her jagged, bouncy playing was a highlight of their live show, and I remember thinking that it needed to be elevated on their recordings, so it’s a welcome change. Bianca Sparta’s drums also benefit from a much-needed boost, and it emphasizes the group’s dynamism and power.

Since At Crystal Palace, current events have been a major topic of discussion in music, and Erase Errata aren’t afraid to throw in their two cents. Every song on Nightlife is directly concerned with politics, the war, or the general ignorance and destitution of American life. “Rider” directly confronts the apocalyptic state of present-day Iraq with a broken guitar riff dancing over rumbling drums, building up an anxious and violent climate for the venomous lyrics—Jenny Hoyston chirps, “They’ve got a law in the desert / They’ve got a law to help each other / Where everybody has a gun / Everybody has a knife.” “Dust” attacks the absurdity of celebrity obsession in light of the international crisis, while “Giant Hans” focuses on living in a world where jets circle above.

Funny, then, that the best song on the album deals with social demoralization rather than political corruption and war. “Hotel Suicide,” with its upbeat drum, rickety guitar, and eerie, echoing trumpet, discusses the desolation and depravity of prostitution. During the surging bridge, Hoyston sings, “Gideon can’t save me now in my hotel room,” with unbridled passion, engulfing the listener in the psychological turmoil of its subject. As the song dies, she concludes, “Another hotel suicide / Staring at an empty line / This not is a paperwaste.” She delivers it as if she’s giving up.

The problem with Nightlife is that, with the exception of “Hotel Suicide,” nothing really stands out. Most of the hooks are pretty uninteresting and, though the production is much stronger, the music never really is. The band has a strong lyrical presence and an intriguing, distinct sound, but the material here feels tossed-off and haphazard, so the vitriol and righteous fury never really shine through. Erase Errata have urgency and originality, they just need it figure out how to make it endure for longer than one listen.