Tilly and the Wall have never been shy about getting a little bit feisty. On their debut album Wild Like Children they famously – among their die-hards, anyway – chanted "I wanna fuck it up and I feel so alive," in an ode to those high school kids who dress in drag and can't stop touching each other. And so 'Night of the Living Dead' became the group's rousing anthem – an entire teenage experience colored by nostalgia and packed into a tight four minutes – but their fascination with naive experimentation, both in pushing the boundaries of authority and of a more sexual nature, didn't end there. Instead of "maturing" and becoming jaded, the band's sophomore album, Bottoms of Barrels, paired the passion of green youth with the expanding of sonic boundaries, perfected on the latin-flavored, Almódovar-biting 'Bad Education', a song packed with more cross-dressing and more urgent humping. Kids grow up so fast these days.

And so when the bridge to the group's new diatribe on gossip, 'Pot Kettle Black', kicks in, they sound as spunky as ever. "What a ho, what a tramp, what a slut," spits one of the cute-with-an-edge Tilly girls in a mocking, but still venomous, inflection. But now the sound is sexed, too. Instead of the generally tender acoustic pop and folk offerings Tilly and the Wall do so well, 'Pot Kettle Black' is a fired-up romp that could pass for a Yeah Yeah Yeahs track and would serve well as the soundtrack to some patented Karen O beer spitting. And while the sound is not representative of the album's entire sonic palette, it does serve to show just how far the band can and will go.

Tilly and the Wall's third album, officially untitled but referred to by the band as O in reference to the circular album art, finds them once again calling Conor Oberst's Team Love label home, but also demonstrates the band has not yet gotten comfortable. Led vocally by two fetching women, Neely Jenkins and Kianna Alarid, and flanked by Derek Pressnall and Nick White on vocals/guitar and keys respectively, the group have an undeniable chemistry and perceivable charm. But it's Tilly's fifth member, percussionist and tap dancer Jamie Pressnall, who has constantly demanded the most attention - and rightfully so. This obvious quirk has always scored the band points with younger listeners and even pushes a mainstream appeal. On O, the shoes rattle and roll, stomp and slap but with an even greater depth than ever before, a result of varying amplification and floors.

Production duties were again helmed by the Saddle Creek family's own Phil Spector-style mastermind, Mike Mogis, and he leaves the record sounding crisp and full: from the fuzzy synth of 'Dust Me Off' to the more intricate tap patterns of album closer 'Too Excited,' and yet another punky hybrid in the model of 'Pot Kettle Black’.

Elsewhere, the guitars loom larger than they have previously, often distorted and biting, with the acoustic six-string only the prevalent anchor to opener 'Tall Tall Grass,' a song that still features a spastic electric solo. The most typically delicate track, the record barely breathes again from the outset, a theme defined succinctly in the title to the album's first single, 'Cacophony.'

As such the album suffers a bit from a fairly sustained mood, lacking the softhearted fragility and balance of Bottoms of Barrels tracks like 'Lost Girls,' 'Love Song,' or 'Coughing Colors.' An array of instruments and styles, even for a Saddle Creek-affiliated album, fill what might've been quieter moments, ranging from full keys (the band built their own tack piano) to international-sounding brass, bells, accordion, percussion machines and even the occasional appearance of a full drum set. 'Falling Without Knowing' sounds as if it could be an out-take from Bright Eyes' electronic experiment, Digital Ash in a Digital Urn, a true stretch from anything the band has written, while coming of age stories like 'Chandelier Lake' (the only track to exceed four minutes) and 'I Found You' convey a warm familiarity, filling Tilly and the Wall's greatest function – being the audio equivalent of a hug from a good friend. And like any loyal companion, Tilly and the Wall are not only playing, they're listening. "What do you want from us?" they ask on 'Poor Man's Ice Cream' "What were you dreaming of?" Frankly, there's not much more to ask for in the face of a daring and different third album in an age where the shelf-life of a standard one-hit wonder outlasts the internet's rotating cast of "it" bands. It may still be soon to call them everlasting, but one can't help but wonder if Tilly and the Wall found that storied and elusive fountain somewhere: they keep growing up without getting old.