Broken Bells, “Into the Blue.”

It’s been quite a while since Broken Bells released an album. The output of the musical partnership of James Mercer (The Shins) and Brian Burton (Danger Mouse) has been erratic since 2014’s After the Disco. There have been some singles in the intervening years, notably 2019’s “Good Luck,” but both Mercer and Burton were probably pretty busy with their own projects.

Most recently, Danger Mouse released an album with Black Thought of The Roots and Mercer has been on tour with The Shins.

The music that Mercer and Burton make together as Broken Bells is unique and hard to classify. Their influences are apparent – they often cite The Beatles, Pink Floyd and Elephant 6 – but the fusion of their two different styles rises above easy comparison. As with many Broken Bells songs, it’s not entirely clear what all the songs on Into the Blue are about; whether they’re metaphors or commentary about specific situations, but that vagueness is probably by design, as it lends them an air of mystery.

Into the Blue opens with its title track, which floats in with ghostly guitars and wordless vocals, hovering for almost a minute and setting the sinister yet melancholy tone for the album before the lyrics come in. “Hang your head down/ What no one ever wants/ You find in large amounts/ You fall into the blue/ Then it’s gone,” Mercer sings.

Single “We’re Not in Orbit Yet” features acoustic guitar and synths, combining old and new sounds in the way that Broken Bells do so well. “We will sacrifice to touch the sky/ And burn the brightest thing,” Mercer sings. “With the match we light the dark of night/ To wash it all away/ Gonna make new tracks as we turn our backs on the stars/ Warning us, ‘Stay where you are.’”

“Invisible Exit” swells with symphonic synths under a simple acoustic guitar. Of all the tracks, this one sounds the most like a Shins track. The orchestration is minimal, allowing Mercer’s voice to carry the song, even as piano kicks in beneath it. “I don’t like pretending there will always be a morning light/ Soon as I get my head on straight/ And when all is clear/ Crawl outside into another day/ Let it fall away,” Mercer matter-of-factly sings.

“Love On the Run” is an odd turn for Broken Bells. It sounds like a slow jam at first, with trumpets, although the lyrics are still cryptic and unromantic: “Ooh, just a loving song, a loving song of freedom/ Like I’m in danger/ When there ain’t nobody else/ I put my heart back on the shelf/ Turn into light.” The yacht rock sheen dissolves into a Pink-Floyd-esque prog guitar solo that goes on for way too long. It’s obviously meant to be an opus but noticeably meanders among a group of songs that are tightly executed. It’s really the only miss on this album.

“One Night” goes hard on ’80s synth sounds, like a lost “Miami Vice” soundtrack, as Mercer reflects on a failed relationship. “I’ve been alone for a second/ Another year has come and gone/ Thought I would call you and check in/ See if you found where you might belong,” he sings.

When he sings “Losing our minds just a little/ How can you not in a fragile world?” it’s a sentiment to which we can all relate post-lockdowns. There’s some killer lead guitar that comes in on the middle eight, but it’s unfortunately lost in the synth muddle as the electronic percussion comes back in to finish out the song.

Single “Saturdays” is the strongest song on the album and likely not coincidentally, sounds the most like Broken Bells on Into the Blue. Mercer seems to be missing a time that’s come and gone, reflecting how “it’s a long way down from those Saturdays/ Just you and I.” The repeating stutter on the drumbeat sounds like a record scratch and is signature Danger Mouse. Mercer’s voice soars on the chorus, bringing together all the elements that make this duo really work. The song ends with some “ahhhhh” vocals that sounds like world-weary sighs.

“Forgotten Boy” staggers in with a shuffle beat as Mercer sings of feeling unmoored: “Words send you reeling/ Words on the phone/ The ties that bind you are gone/ The days way too long.” The song totters off unsteadily with frenetic synths.

“The Chase” starts quietly with guitar and bass, reminiscent of REM’s “Drive,” before grandiose synths come sweeping in. “No matter where you go/ No matter who you find/ There’s always something wrong/ A million reasons why,” Mercer sings, elucidating the twin feelings of pessimism and paranoia that lurk beneath the surface of much of Broken Bells’ work.

The album fades out on “Fade Away,” on which Mercer sings poignantly, over slow, deliberate synths and an echoing guitar line, “Every day my love/ We’re not made of stone/ So we all/ Fade away.”

Mercer has said working with Burton helped reenergize him at a time when his work with The Shins had become overwhelming for him. Danger Mouse has collaborated with many other artists and produced many albums since that first Broken Bells album in 2010, but his work with Mercer still stands out. Their partnership, marrying Burton’s studio wizardry with Mercer’s folk-pop sensibility, has created a band that’s more than the sum of its parts. It immerses listeners in Broken Bells’ sonic world, and its return is most welcome.

Follow Rachel Alm at Twitter.com/thouzenfold and Instagram.com/thousandfold.