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Sweden's Love Is All proved in 2005 with Nine Times That Same Song that they were a band to keep an eye on. A low-baggage, high-quality group obsessed with clattering post-punk revivalism and a raucously playful outlook on that most common theme of pop music, love, they could have easily slipped through the cracks since they didn’t really do anything new or groundbreaking. Instead, they just chose to do it well. Angled somewhere between punk’s misanthropic cynicism and candy pop’s eternal optimism, their performance was sharp, subversive and a barrel of fun. And if you expect a sharp left turn or a mountain of pressure to hone their rawer vitals, you won’t get what you want. A Hundred Things Keep Me Up at Night is more of the same, a bit cleaner and a bit more focused, but nothing more than a sly sibling to their impressionable debut.

Cleaner isn’t necessarily better, though. Singer Josephine Olausson probably doesn’t have classical chops to play it straight, though bless her, she’s a vivacious and attention-grabbing force of nature. We should all be thankful that the vocals are still generously cavernous and fuzzy: they lend some otherwise feather-weight productions the necessary gravity to keep them from evaporating right after contact. Likewise, the mixing has just the right amount of “hearing them live” distortion and the faintest hints of cheap audio hiss. And yet...maybe it was because they were new in ‘05 or maybe it’s because they sounded more desperate then, but A Hundred Things doesn’t have the same immediate impact as Nine Times. Repeated listens made you love their first record even more; on this one, repetition reveals hidden secrets and opens up the slight wounds. It’s more appreciation than adoration now, but so long as they never lose their gut-punch appeal, they can’t ever go wrong.

Opening with the careening rocker, “New Beginnings,” they exploit super-charged brass without dressing in ska’s clothing while remaining as swerving and danceable as ever. The ecstatic tempos continue through “Give It Back” before Olausson sneers her way through “Movie Romance,” scoffing at the fairy tale magic of Hollywood romances. That kind of snarky attitude appears again on “Sea Sick,” only this time they turn it against themselves, lamenting the roadhouse weariness of repeating the same hit song again and again. Olausson repeatedly blurts out, “I’m bored to death of all this shit,” and it becomes something of a rah-rah cry. Hopefully she won’t have to churn that one out ad nauseum at future shows.

The first half is kept alive by interjections like the new wave keyboard flaring up through “Last Choice” and the Clean-inspired refrain on “Wishing Well.” But as the second side comes on, the seams start showing. While eleven straight four-on-the-floor rockers would have been exhaustingly repetitive, their grasp on slower tracks needs improvement. “When Giants Fall” would be a fine addition to most records, but it’s kind of a drag right in the middle of this one, and has a noise rock/shoegaze drone that doesn’t play to their strengths. “A More Uncertain Future” brings in lead vocals from guitarist Nicholas Sparding to compete with Olausson (unremarkable but not glaringly out of place); it’s an effort to expose Spector-ish sparkle and lay the message bare to ring in our ears. But it’s a track that might have benefited from more polished production since the twinkles and harmonica parts sound drab when buried beneath reverb. The back-and-forth conversational lyrics land lifelessly, too, simply contrasting the views of a bored lady and an enraptured fellow; they’ll never be mistaken for an “important” band that says things that need hearing, but lyrical mishaps are more easily forgiven on the punchier tracks.

Meanwhile, latter numbers that revel in speed and snarl like “Rumours” and “Big Bangs, Black Holes, Meteorites” don’t compare favorably to the earlier punk rockers. “Rumours” begins jittery and anxious, but the swelling, mid-tempo chorus saps away the urgency. And “Big Bangs” is rushed and twitchy, relying too heavily on rat-a-tat drums that carve up the more tuneful nature of the chorus—its paranoid nerve is viable yet constantly slips through our fingers. Luckily, the closer, “19 Floors,” gets them back on track, allowing saxophonist Ake Stromer to go nuts at the end, like a schizophrenic exorcism that sums up the last three minutes of QOTSA’s “I Think I Lost My Headache” in a tenth of the time.

It might be woeful that Love Is All didn’t try to advance their terms on A Hundred Things Keep Me Up at Night, but I’d certainly rather see a band repeat success than fail at something new. Who needs an earth-shattering experience every time they pop an album into the stereo? I could listen to a dozen records just like this one and keep on smiling. The weaknesses arise only in missed opportunities that pry their way into the band’s agenda. Keep things light, always angle away from the last note, and drive the catchy melody home each and every time. Let’s hope these plucky Swedes never grow up.