The party line here at CMG about the Hold Steady has been pretty negative. Our reaction to Almost Killed Me (2004) was tepid, and Separation Sunday (2005) was openly disparaged (chalking up, as we sometimes do, the lowest ranking on Metacritic). I can understand some of the hate: the band isn’t doing anything new, the riffs are pure classic rock, and Craig Finn can be more than a little grating. True, there’s not much in the Hold Steady’s oeuvre that is legitimately great music, but late on a Saturday night I can imagine few things that sound better -- and for those of us who dig loud, angry, drunken, fist-pumping music, it doesn’t get much better than this these days. Maybe it’s the strong sense of Catholic guilt, the Minneapolis background, or just the already-familiar riffs, but these (along with the Walkmen’s records) are the songs that serve as the soundtrack to my burgeoning alcoholism.

Assuming burgeoning alcoholics mostly comprise the Hold Steady’s fanbase, Boys and Girls in America is unlikely to disappoint. This is still very much the same bar band, still singing about the same topics and characters, and only very slightly changing things up. The Springsteen jones comes through more than ever, especially with Franz Nicolay’s keyboards heavy in the mix. There’s less of a narrative arc than on Sunday, but by and large there’s little to distinguish a song like “Hot Soft Light” or “Chips Ahoy!” from anything off the first two records. This is a mixed blessing: the Hold Steady are good at doing this thing that they do, but what is this album doing that the first two didn’t do just as well or better?

Among other things, it introduces a softer side of Finn. His singing voice has always been contentious, but the band makes a conscious decision to highlight it at several points on the record. Both “First Night” and the quiet, acoustic “Citrus” put him front and center, with mixed results. The latter is charming and brief, but the former is too long, too hokey, and too piano-heavy-lite-rock to be taken seriously. I’ve never had a problem with Finn’s voice, but it always sounds better with Tad Kubler’s thick guitar lines behind it.

And, of course, there’s plenty of those, too. While nothing’s gonna beat Sunday’s flawless opening trifecta, the band gives it a shot with “Station to Station,” “Chips Ahoy!,” and “Hot Soft Light.” The first is all Boss keyboards and triumphant backing vocals, even though the song deals with the 1972 suicide of poet John Berryman. “Chips Ahoy!” is a full-on love song, albeit in the fucked-up sort of way Finn is drawn to. The best of the lot, and of the album, is “Hot Soft Light,” with Finn shucking and jiving through the list of South Minneapolis landmarks and then a quick-fire declaration that, “before that I was blotto / I was blacked out / I was cracked out / I was caved in.”

The rest of the album is on par: above-average guitar rock with the chance to revisit a familiar cast of characters. A dozen listens through, though, and I can’t help but think the band has done better in past. Nothing here matches the righteous anger of “The Swish,” the emotional heft of “Certain Songs,” or the sheer joyous rock of “Stevie Nix.” Perhaps most importantly, while “Southtown Girls” is a good song, it doesn’t match up to the previous album closers. “How a Resurrection Really Feels” pulled Sunday together and “Killer Parties” is one of the best songs the band has managed; “Southtown Girls” just doesn’t measure up.

More than with most bands, though, these are minor problems. For those already drinking the kool-aid (or, uh, gin), this is going to be yet another sign of the band’s greatness, another chapter in the modern mythology of Minneapolis and the surrounding suburbs. For those not on board, there wasn’t much farther to go wrong anyways. As for me, I’m gonna stick with the first two records and keep hoping that one day someone will finally get around to reissuing some Lifter-Puller.