On their last album, 2009’s, King Of Jeans, this Pennsylvania-based group of miscreants created an album that took their noisy, sludgy punk to new highs (or lows, depending on how you look at it). They created an album that not only rocked viciously, but also had a nice, diverse batch of tunes that mixed up speeds and textures, which made nearly each song a singular experience. It also helped that they had producer Alex Newport of Fudge Tunnel fame to lend a raw, corrosive edge to the record. The album’s excellence wasn’t overlooked by the press, as the band’s profile rose, despite the fact that they tour infrequently because they are all married day-job dads. (And anyway, when did you hear music this deranged coming from people with such seemingly normal lives?)

The positive news is that this record is every bit as good as the last one. Pissed Jeans has managed to move forward and streamline their sound, allowing for a leaner, more punchy approach. These ones hit a little bit harder, and once again they have Newport to grime it up. If anyone thought they were going to mellow out or sell out — well, this is the middle finger in those people’s faces.

Honeys opens with the exhilarating rush of “Bathroom Laughter,” which features some demented screams from lead singer Matt Korvette, as well as a go-for-broke attack from the rest of the band. From there, they downshift to “Chain Worker,” which is a slowed down, creepy, almost spoken-word piece that resembles “The Jogger” off the Hope For Men record — except this one is more compact and to the point. They follow is with two barn-burners: “Romanticize Me” ups the pace to a brisk punk rock speed, where Korvette sings about the songs protagonist being a lazy jerk and how his significant other should make it seem romantic. “Vain In Costume” keeps the fast pace, but adds a catchy, sing-songy cadence.

On the second half of the record, “Cafeteria Food” is a slow-paced, sludgy trawl through the darker side of office politics, while “Male Gaze” lurches forward a powerful riff from Bradley Fry, and gets into the minds of men who give unwanted stares. But before you think they’ve lost any momentum, “Cathouse” and “Health Plan” burst out of the gate like gangbusters, and both feature short, ripping solos from Fry. The band ends the album with “Teenage Adult,” which could either be about them or their fans — or maybe a bit of both.

Though they have matured as human beings, fortunately the music has not. Honeys is another rousing and crazy screed against the perils and pratfalls of modern life, in all its ugly/beautiful glory. For people who are having a bad day, here is your catharsis. It is easily one of the best albums of this young new year.

(Sub Pop, 2013 Fourth Avenue, Third Floor, Seattle, WA 98121)