Mike Kinsella, Steve Lamos, and Steve Holmes recorded American Football’s only LP in their final days at the University of Illinois in the late 1990s aware it would probably be their only one. “When we started making music, it wasn’t to be popular, or even be a band,” says Kinsella. So it was no huge surprise when the self-titled record was largely overlooked, even in its hometown, and the trio broke up about a year later. But then something unexpected happened. The album became “a rite of passage for young kids getting into emo music, for whatever reason,” Kinsella deadpans. Over the last few years in particular, American Football—which perfected an inimitable alchemy borne of Midwestern longing, jazz, Steve Reich and the post-rock of the Sea and Cake and Tortoise—emerged as the single most influential record in the fourth wave of emo that restored the genre’s good name.

So the group’s triumphant reunion in 2014 actually ended up being a front for what amounted to a college homecoming. In an interview shortly preceding the deluxe reissue of American Football that year, Kinsella estimated the trio had talked to each other more in the previous six months than they did in the 14 years before that. Though Kinsella is an indie rock lifer, the other two members need excuses to take time off for band practice. Holmes works an office job in Chicago, while Lamos is an English professor at the University of Colorado and author of Interests and Opportunities: Race, Racism and University Writing Instruction in the Post-Civil Rights Era. “Steve’s an actual genius,” Kinsella notes. “He’s really respected in his field, so he has some pull where he can get away for a bit.”

And you know how things go when college buddies click up after a long hiatus, everyone saying, “We should do this more often!” Typically, those plans fizzle out before the first camping trip or whatever, and American Football could’ve basically held out and been their realm’s version of Neutral Milk Hotel or Slint—a band whose brief existence and massive influence results in the ability to play festivals whenever the hell they want without any new music. But no. American Football decided they had to make another album. So they did. It’s also titled American Football and it’s out October 21.

The first song released from the sequel, “I’ve Been So Lost for So Long,” is straightforward, thumping, and anthemic. When Kinsella sings, “Doctor, it hurts when I exist,” it’s heartfelt, but certainly aware of its own melodramatic tone. Lest any of the diehards get overly concerned, the new American Football is rife with nocturnal, wistful ambience, horn solos, and, yes, overlapping guitars in off-kilter time signatures. Yet “I’ve Been Lost” is fairly indicative of the record, which is much more streamlined and *song-*oriented than its predecessor. Kinsella attributes the change to the influence of his cousin Nate, a new addition to the band on bass. “This album doesn’t seem to meander as much, but it wasn’t on purpose,” Kinsella says. “It’s what came out in the time frame we had.”

Perhaps seeing how an open-ended songwriting process and consistent public updates could lead to years of deflating rumors, Kinsella set a deadline by which recording had to get done. In fact, he found himself rewriting lyrics until the last minute. “A lot of the songs were tracked, and we were finishing overdubs even before the other guys knew what the vocals were,” he says.