Remember how gypsy music was supposedly making a comeback? Praised in the blogosphere after their 2006 debut, Beirut was lumped into the same Eastern Invasion category as Gogol Bordello, simply because both bands cited gypsy influences. However, Beirut eschews Bordello’s hedonism and registers as a slightly more ethnic Neutral Milk Hotel.

“The Flying Club Cup,” Beirut’s second album, seeks inspiration further west of their old sonic haunts and finds it in France. The influence is evident, superficially in the pretentious Francophone chatter at the beginning of songs, the French song titles on eight of the album’s 13 tracks, and in the use of accordion and euphonium. The different instruments tonally enrich the tracks, often creating beautiful oceans of sound and offering a refreshing alternative to Beirut’s contemporaries. However, the highlights of the album come when the clamor dies down and frontman Zach Condon is left singing accompanied only by one instrument.

The ukulele of “The Penalty” comes like a cleansing sorbet after the decadence of the previous songs. “Un Dernier Verre (Pour La Route)” begins simply, but Condon can’t resist indulging in his horns.

Most of the record’s songs are waltzes; most feature the same full horn section, accordion, and Condon’s slow, bittersweet voice (think a higher-register Stephin Merritt). The effect isn’t unpleasant—but the album works best as background music. Some of the songs feature slightly different elements, like the Celtic drums of “Guyamas Sonora,” or the jazzy piano line throughout “In the Mausoleum.”

However, hearing Owen Pallett (who also wrote the album’s string arrangements and records on his own under the moniker of Final Fantasy) sing on “Cliquot” is a lovely surprise, despite the omnipresent accordion. The track sounds more like the classically inflected pop found on a Final Fantasy record, and the lyrics (“What melody will see him in my arms again?”) also scream Pallett.

A slow melancholy pervades the album, but the emotional heaviness can get a bit grating after a while. It makes one wonder if Condon is incapable of any happiness. Maybe he’s just feigning world-weariness—Condon’s only 21, after all. His voice fits the music but rarely impresses.

“The Flying Club Cup” isn’t half bad. Beirut’s eclectic arrangements separates them from traditional guitar rock outfits, but it leads to comparisons with groups like Arcade Fire and Neutral Milk Hotel—comparisons that aren’t always favorable. Beirut adds Franco-flavor to the gypsy formula, but it’s hard not to wish they had developed a new one altogether.

—Reviewer Candace I. Munroe can be reached at cimunroe@fas.harvard.edu.