The first two Django Django albums felt like psychedelic foodstuff: perfectly palatable and digestible, but lacking a certain substance that warranted revisiting. What was most notable about their self-titled debut and Born Under Saturn wasn’t the songs, but rather the various flourishes, namely the use of vocal harmonies during seemingly every moment. While calling cards are nice, they shouldn’t feel like the only thing holding a band’s work together.

The London band’s third album, Marble Skies, is their most tenacious to date. Compared to its predecessors, which often felt meandering in their search for hooks in their too-long tracklist lengths of 13 songs each, Marble Skies gets to the point early and often. The 10 tracks here are decently varied and memorable, rather than feeling like a deluge of sounds that had been worn out around the time of Yeasayer’s third album.

Marble Skies finds Django Django stepping away from the trademarks. For one, there are significantly fewer vocal harmonies. While occasionally present, they don’t dominate the tracks as before. Instead, they’re mainly saved for choruses. The feverish opening title track feels like lead singer/guitarist Vincent Neff and the rest of the band experiencing relief via shaking off expectations of themselves. When the harmonies hit in the resplendent chorus, it’s wonderfully welcomed. There’s also more contrast in vocal styles. The deadpan tone backing Neff’s falsetto on ‘Champagne’ is particularly well-employed.

This is the band’s least-psychedelic offering to date, leaning more towards synthpop and writing better Hot Chip songs than Hot Chip have as of late. They look for their hooks early and don’t let go. Often, they’ll lull you with an appealing set of verses and walk you right into chorus without you realizing it, like on the upbeat and strangely seductive ‘Beam Me Up.’ This makes for a nice pairing with the reflective and semi-danceable ‘In Your Beat,’ whose synths plunge serious tonal depths and uses its chorus/bridge for some classic dance floor existentialism (“Why we gotta be so damn low, once again?”).

They also manage their most successfully ‘weird’ song to date with ‘Tic Tac Toe.’ While vocal harmonies dominate, they add to the arrangement, rather than distract. The handclaps, militaristic drum rolls, and whoa-ing vocals are too much at once in the best way possible. When the song breaks for its ‘hook’ (saying each word of the title, first two languid, last one energetic), it’s breathing room that also makes you look forward to it kicking back into gear.

Just about every song on Marble Skies is successful. The unfortunate outlier is ‘Surface to Air,’ which features Slow Club’s Rebecca Taylor on lead vocals. The second track on the album, it’s a full-length number that feels like an interlude that outstayed its welcome. Plus, Taylor’s unemotive vocals are at odds with the tropical synths around her. At times, they wear their influences a bit too much on their sleeves, like ‘Sundials,’ a perfectly lovely pop song who’s vocal melodies should come with a royalty check for Brian Wilson. However, it’s not like they’re at a loss for compelling ideas. ‘Real Gone,’ the longest track by over a minute, has all the makings of a progressive house classic. It just needs another few minutes to really build momentum.

Is that the answer? Should the next Django Django album be, say, five tracks in 45 minutes, seeing how far they can take their hooks and ability to get you lost in their sounds? I’m not sure, but if you told me after two underwhelming albums that they would go for more straightforward pop, I’d be skeptical. Instead, Marble Skies turns out to be their most successful album yet. My advice to them (whether they stick with this style, veer back towards psychedelia, or go elsewhere) : whatever focus they had when writing this album, don’t let go of it.