It would be charitable to assume Cursive’s sixth album is satirical, but that’s the only way to stomach all the humanity-hating it holds. Tim Kasher, now 34, narrates some dude’s responsibility-ditching wanderings while obsessing over the fact that we all used to be worthless, instinctual animals that became worthless, self-important humans — “the joke of all existence,” he concludes. The emo-punk angst is cut with little of the band’s trademark wit or ingenuity: Most of the songs plod bloodlessly to an inevitable, pointless climax of noise, sour humor, and teen nihilism.