The Jesus and Mary Chain, “Glasgow Eyes.”

For those of us who remember, there was a very specific feeling you used to get from a Jesus and Mary Chain album. The blissed-out noise rock was like the love buzz you’d get seeing your crush in the hallway during passing period: a sea of sounds in your ears as loud as a jet engine and slow like honey. And it was weird because there were all these people in the songs, taking on the world, making love on the edge of a knife, and walking back to you. But it was as if they were trapped in amber, forever loving and striving and giving – but mostly walking – lost forever in the fevers of their passions.

Glasgow Eyes, the latest from founding brothers Jim and William Reid, doesn’t feel like that. Gone are the gauzy guitars and reverb-drenched drumming that still haunt the tinnitus of early fans. This is not a sudden change. The band has slowly roused itself from the overdriven somnambulism of its earliest, most genre-defining work, and picked up the pace on successive albums like 1989’s Automatic, 1994’s Stoned and Dethroned and 2017’s Damage and Joy.

The band’s latest feels like the Manchester pop of musical offshoot Primal Scream and blasts from the past like The Stone Roses. The music bounces over propulsive drumbeats. Yearning for the days of Girbaud jeans and hairspray while cranking The Charlatans and Happy Mondays on your Walkman? Single “Jamcod” has got you covered. “Girl 71” razzles and dazzles with a radio-friendly sheen and life- and love-affirming lyrics. “Hey, we got something/ I’ve got you, we got something/ You’ve got me, we got something/ We’ve got love,” Jim Reid sings over a chunky guitar riff and driving backbeat.

And there are some interesting musical touches: The opening track, “Venal Joy,” begins in sonic chaos that can best be described as the sound of a fax machine giving birth to another fax machine. Other songs throb with Kraftwerk-style motorik beats. “American Born” blooms with the plastic opulence of early synth-pop, while “Discoteques” throbs with muted guitar chords comping a Krautrock-like drone.

“The Eagles and The Beagles” gives big Weezer “Beverly Hills” energy. And I’m sorry, that’s kind of where I have to tap out. Because I’m old and my mind is slow and ill-equipped to process new kinds of information, and I just want The Jesus and Mary Chain to occupy this strange liminal space in my teenage mind between being in love and irritating my parents. I want to remain in this world where music was as overwhelming as everything else in my life: falling in love, failing a test, skipping a class, disobeying a parent..

Give me the old Jesus and Mary Chain they were listening to at the beginning of Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night” when Orsino declares, “If music be the food of love, play on/ Give me excess of it that, surfeiting/ The appetite may sicken and so die/ That strain again, it had a dying fall/ O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound/ That breathes upon a bank of violets/ Stealing and giving odour.”

This is a strong album taken on its own merit. Its vibe comes closest to “Something,” an unlikely 1991 collaboration between the Reid brothers and perennial Texan weirdos the Butthole Surfers, which appeared on their album Pioughd. I’m clearly biased here, and mileage may vary for listeners who have made peace with their teenage desires.