In fact, Mr. Beast feels like a sequel to 2003's sublime Happy Music for Happy People: The latter's peaks and valleys presaged the end of the world, whereas Beast soundtracks the lonely fallout. A repeating piano melody coils itself around ominous guitars that slowly build from silence to beehive-angry quivers on "Auto Rock"; "Acid Food" asks "What happened after the storm?" atop a Vicodin-induced twang haze; and the almost baroque "Team Handed" sighs with resignation and more desolate ivory tickling.
Even moments of pummeling noise (like the near pop song "Travel Is Dangerous") attack like a smart-bomb homing in on its target. And that's the beauty of the near-flawless Beast: Its turmoil and sadness intertwine in such a meticulous, human way, the reactions it provokes are that much more intense -- whether it's silent tears or a poignant sense of peace.