Ben Folds Five have come of age. Their moody new release is a conceptual drift through the experience of their titular hero, a disconnected observer who feels more than he lets on. And in the delicate construction here, the band proves the same is true of itself. Messner aches with lush compositions that expand both BFF's sound (string arrangements accompany their trademark piano/bass/drum combination) and their identity. Sure, "punk rock for sissies" was a fun label for their often-silly post-kitsch nods to pissed-off ex-boyfriends and love-struck goofballs, but it hardly accommodates the stylish, lingering sway delivered here. The grandiose sweep of "Narcolepsy" leads into a series of cool, ruminative ballads echoing the mellow-sweet classical pop of Bacharach and Rundgren. Folds blends everything from the country-western atheistic lament "Mess" to the lovely, disaffected suite of "Hospital Song," "Army," "Your Redneck Past" and "Regrets." The subdued and heartfelt "Jane" transforms him into a breathy late-night lounge singer. Lit by utter honesty and padded with flugelhorns and violins, the album is conceived in sepia nostalgia and weary lucidity. There is an adult awareness beneath the band's play. This is the proof.