Newly svelte at nine members, this formerly 23-strong Georgia collective has made a sophomore album that overcompensates a little: The songs are big, relentless rock-a-thons, heavy on the guitar squeals, flute accents, and echoing voices, but surprisingly lacking the nimbleness and humor of 2007’s Universal Indians. Still, it’s hard to resist the truly epic moments, including all ten minutes of “No One Was There,” which opens sounding like Creedence Clearwater Revival at a desert bazaar and closes like a heavy-metal marching band playing double time.
