Brand New / Photograph by: Nicholas Prior

It’s weird. For an album as obnoxiously loud as “The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me,” it’s remarkably soothing. It’s the only album that can actually end bouts of insomnia through shrieks and screams. It’s the only thing that can fix — at least temporarily — the problems that actually matter. It’s the only piece of art that can make me feel like I’m the most insignificant person on the planet while simultaneously giving me a sense of peace.

It’s weird, but it’s entirely fitting, because Brand New has always been a band that doesn’t make any sort of sense. They began as pop punkers screaming “I hope you choke and die!” which later became “Die young and save yourself!” but ended up creating their own genre that melds emo, alternative, and post-hardcore — with bits of Morrissey, Modest Mouse, and Archers of Loaf sprinkled in. I’m sorry if that’s vague, but there’s really no way to typecast Brand New. They were on the cusp of mainstream success in the early 2000s, but decided to shun media outlets to live as a recluse. They’re the most popular band on the planet — and inspired a fan base more akin to a cult — that nobody on the planet has ever heard of.

Without “The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me” — their third full-length album — that accomplishment would’ve been impossible.

On Monday, “The Devil and God” turned 10 years old. It’s strange, depressing, and overwhelming all at the same time to think about that. It’s strange that I even care, because when I first listened to the album a decade ago — I was in middle school — I despised it. I wanted “The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows” Part II. I wanted an anthem song even better than “Okay I Believe You, But My Tommy Gun Don’t.” I wanted to keep on chanting “I’m gonna stay 18 forever” as if I sang it loud enough it would actually come true. I wanted something I’d love immediately, instead of something that would require work, patience, and persistence. It’s depressing, because I still haven’t been able to find music that measures up to it. It’s overwhelming, because it’s actually been 10 years and, well, I feel old.

But here we are — a decade after the arrival. And it’s even better than it was when it was released. The true test of an album’s worth isn’t how it’s received on first listen. It’s how it’s remembered years down the line.

“The Devil and God” holds up.