Photo By 230 Publicity

The Hold Steady singer Craig Finn (center, with beer) says the band's new Boys and Girls in America is more complex than their previous albums.

The Hold Steady is constantly moving. It's what they do. They can't help it. Rising out of the ashes of cultish Minneapolis band Lifter Puller, the Brooklyn-based fivesome -- led by frontman Craig Finn and guitarist Tad Kubler -- has packed quite a bit into its brief existence. The band seemed to come out of nowhere when its debut, Almost Killed Me, surfaced in 2004. Backed by a head-sticking single -- "The Swish," a stellar first impression of big riffs and barroom poetics -- the record signaled the arrival of a wonderfully out-of-step band that (sonically speaking) channeled everything from Thin Lizzy and AC/DC to The Replacements and the E Street Band.

And then there's Finn, The Hold Steady's modest-looking lead shouter and songwriter. Bespectacled and kinda round, the guy has a gift for telling stories laced with equal parts angst and hope. Like a preacher at his pulpit, Finn's passionately rendered, evocative words flow quickly, gathering converts with each new exposure.

The band's congregation grew rapidly with the release of Separation Sunday, a concept record about girls, parties, hoodrats and religion. It was one of the best releases of 2005 and it cemented a fan base that's as fervent as Finn was about his beloved Hardcore bands of the 1980s.

The Hold Steady went from small rooms (they played a sparsely attended, sweaty show at the Southgate House's Parlour last summer) to Lollapalooza as quickly as a Britney Spears marriage, the result of endless touring and damn good songs.

Back with its third record in three years, the excellent Boys and Girls in America, the band shows no signs of slowing down. Right out the gate we're in trademark Hold Steady territory: "Stuck Between Stations" kick-starts with crunchy guitars and anxious piano before Finn's nasally yelp delivers the record's thematic opening lines: "There are nights when I think that Sal Paradise was right/Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together."

It's a perfect distillation of what the band does best: anthemic music shot through with Finn's elemental, drink- and drug-laced tales of everyday people. The Jack Kerouac (aka Sal Paradise from On the Road) reference is no coincidence -- the album's title and opening lyric is lifted from a line in Kerouac's classic book.

"He (Kerouac) had an interesting way of explaining relationships between guys and girls," Finn says by cell phone from Orlando, the band's latest tour stop. "It doesn't necessarily get easier when you're 35 as opposed to when you're 17. You may learn more about baseball, but you don't really become any smarter when it comes to things about love."

Boys and Girls in America finds the band moving away from the concept approach, in the process delivering a less emotionally claustrophobic experience, a lighter, more diverse batch of songs that resonate just the same.

"I thought Separation Sunday was maybe a little one-dimensional," Finn says. "I kept thinking that listening to it was like watching an Oliver Stone movie where there's one point and he just keeps hitting you over the head with it for two hours. I think Boys and Girls is much more complex lyrically. There's more going on. It's more thought provoking."

The band brought in a "professional" producer for the first time, John Agnello, the guy who turned the knobs on Sonic Youth's recent Rather Ripped and has mixed albums by the likes of Dinosaur Jr. and Drive-By Truckers.

"John helped us step out of our comfort zone and pushed things a little harder," Finn says. "One of the other things we are trying to communicate with this record is sort of just the joy involved when we play music together, and I think he captured that."

That sense of joy is readily apparent in songs like the riff-happy, relentlessly catchy "Chips Ahoy!" and the driving, Hüsker-Dü-meets-E-Street-Band raucous of "Same Kooks." But part of the band's broadening palette also includes the creation of a couple of down-tempo gems, "First Night" and "Citrus," which pimps Kubler's acoustic guitar and Finn's affecting delivery of lines like "Lost in fog and love and faithless fear/I've had kisses that make Judas seem sincere."

Finn sees the band's evolution as an organic, inevitable progression. But don't expect The Hold Steady's robust work ethic to change anytime soon.

"To keep working is important," he says. "That's what a Rock band does, that's what it should do: play shows and put out records. You shouldn't sit around. And if you're waiting three years in between records, the thing has gotta be a masterpiece."

There's a blue-collar, populist streak to the band's approach (alcohol and '70s Rock riffs being two of their favorite indulgences). It's a tag Finn embraces.

"When The Hold Steady started, we were going for something inclusive," he says. "I don't want to say it was a reaction to Indie Rock, because we're still, in my mind, an Indie Rock band, but there was a real feeling like it was not snobbish, and I wanted people to have a good time. It goes back to trying to reach people."

Which brings us back to Finn's roots as a devout descendent of the '80s Hardcore scene as well as his Catholic background, both signs of his belief in the power of intensely personal shared experiences. Finn doesn't hesitate when asked if music can be seen as a form of religion.

"Yeah, definitely," he says. "I know in my own life I took a lot of positivity from Rock & Roll that wasn't in other parts of my life, including church. It's a very spiritual thing for a lot of people. I can say honestly that I've probably had at least five to 10 moments in my life where I was watching a band and it just got so good that there was a feeling of complete ecstasy."