People would appreciate Kevin Barnes’ music more if he released less of it. Two decades into his Of Montreal project, Barnes continues to average about an album a year, and far more if you count compilations and EPs. That Stephen King-like prolificacy may work for rappers who aren't concerned if you listen to their latest mixtape or wait for the next one, or guys like Robert Pollard, whose records ask almost nothing of the listener. But even Of Montreal’s best albums don’t exactly go down easy; they’re a serious investment of time, energy, and patience. We all only get so much time on this earth, and we can only devote so much of it listening to Kevin Barnes. And so since False Priest Of Montreal albums have piled up like unread issues of The New Yorker on a coffee table, guilt tripping you for failing to keep up with them.

For those who checked out after the band’s third consecutive Georgie Fruit album, or those who could no longer keep all of the group’s Seussian record titles straight, here’s what you’ve missed: a further bottoming out, followed by a run of decent full-lengths that felt a bit like apologies for the headaches that preceded them, including a kind of folky record, a more rocking one and, last year, a semi-EDM inspired one called Innocence Reaches. While by no means one of the group’s best records—it probably doesn’t even crack the 50th percentile—that last album seemed to outline a promising path forward for the band: Stay relevant by engaging with contemporary sounds instead of returning to the usual Beatles/Bowie/Prince triptych. But this is Of Montreal we’re talking about, and they’ve never been ones to follow a linear progression, so here we have their latest EP, Rune Husk, which ret-cons away the last record’s raved-up synths. It’s a retreat, another Of Montreal release where the standout track is the one that most sounds like Ziggy Stardust.

“Stag to the Stable,” with its punchy, Mick Ronson-esque riff, is the EP’s most purely fun moment, especially during a loopy bridge that riffs on one of Barnes’ go-to themes, transformation (“Disappearing is eerie when you don't even care to maintain a physical form/Or give voice to the pariah plaintiff in adjudication rooms.”) Unfortunately, the limp tracks bookending it feel like leftovers, possibly ones that predate Innocence Reaches by quite a while. Two are low-energy psychedelic sketches in need of a hook. The third is a slightly livelier one with the same problem.

Credit Barnes this, though: He may have made some misguided albums, but he’s never made a cynical one. Even on his lesser material, he digs in with gonzo determination, and that conviction can go a long way. “Island Life” almost coasts on his vividly grotesque beat poetry alone: “King Derelict outed shifty ranges and kinky drones/No fetal sex traumas without revenge, a boring execution climax of trinity maggot.” And when on the otherwise aimless “Widowsucking” Barnes enthuses “I’m wicked ’cause I have not peaked!” he’s so confident that you truly want to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s possible he hasn’t peaked. Mostly, though, Rune Husk reaffirms what we already know: Barnes has some more good music in him, and possibly even some great music, but he’s going to make us keep digging for it.