If you’re stoked that indie rock no longer has to remotely resemble “rock”, Manchester Orchestra’s fourth LP, Cope, is probably like nothing else you’ve heard all year. "Top Notch" sets the tone immediately and it's that of a fire alarm*—*the drums loudly stutter-stomp, the guitars strain in harmony at an even higher volume, and Andy Hull’s rebel yell is even louder. This is the sort of thing that used to be called “alternative rock” out of habit, and in 2014, it’s actually earned that name.

And yet, Cope once again finds Manchester Orchestra in the netherworld they’ve long occupied: not quite as cerebral as they aspire to be, nowhere near as lunkheaded as they could allow themselves to be, making radio-friendly rock too leaden and static to make reciprocity a foregone conclusion. That’s a shame, since Hull’s clearly an ambitious guy, demonstrated by his leave-it-all-on-the-floor live performances—but the ever-escalating arms race with himself resulted in the simultaneous crescendo and crash of 2011’s Simple Math, where Manchester Orchestra took the latter part of their name to heart and burdened their sturdy, workmanlike rock with Michael Kamen-level bombast.

Cope doesn’t frame Simple Math as a misstep-in-hindsight, although it doesn't try to top it, either; this time around, it's 11 bullshit-free rock songs about getting past the bullshit in your life. Essentially, this is Band of Horses at their major-label crossroads and choosing not to hightail it into the heart of Dixie, alternating between pedal-to-the-floor howlers and bluesy bluster with little else in between. For fans of Cease to Begin, the potential that comparison carries is pretty awesome, except Manchester Orchestra lack any of the aforementioned’s sweep and expanse.

Even if Cope never manages the undeniable wallop of Manchester Orchestra's S&M-friendly “Virgin”, it’s still every bit as exhausting and overproduced. The strings are gone, but there’s not a single yielding surface on any of these songs, and the only respite you get from the roaring, textureless guitars is a palm-muted guitar. Even the high, lonesome harmonies, clearly meant to imbue some kind of human element, sound like digital clipping. Hull also fails to muster warmth and empathy, and despite his promise of Cope being “unrelenting and unapologetic”, he mostly flips “one good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain”: these are loud songs that strike with the blunt force of a Nerf bat, as Hull emotes his heart out without really copping to anything. His lyrics have become tougher to parse, filled with parable and metaphor about relapse, religion and redemption, which makes the lost-soul clichés stick out even more than they previously did.

Look, if you’re anything like me and strive to find at least five real-deal alt-rock bangers per calendar year, it’s easy to pull for these guys*—*they are underdogs within an extremely unique context. Because this stuff can be potent in three-minute shifts, there’s an undeniable thrill in the way “Top Notch” thrashes in place, similar to watching the fight scenes from Iron Man 3 and knowing you’re not going to get that from an arthouse flick. And even if the verses rarely check out, the choruses are pretty fun to yell, and if you can open your heart to yet another imperial rock song called “The Ocean”, well, it’s the most fun of the lot here. And besides, if you think you can just dial this stuff up by turning on your local “alt-rock” station, well, there goes the Neighbourhood. But four albums in, it's becoming pretty clear that the genre in which Manchester Orchestra resides has more untapped potential than the band itself.