Jack Barnett is a conductor; he is not a performer. The second album from These New Puritans (TNP), “Hidden,” is an audacious break from the somewhat-restrained alternative rock of their debut, 2008’s “Beat Pyramid,” as Barnett, the group’s songwriter and vocalist, becomes the conductor of a full-blown operatic rock album. The term “operatic” conjures images of perfected, grandiose voices, melodramatic gestures and conventional melodies. But “Hidden” is no “Madame Butterfly.” The grimy rhythms and ritualistic drum beats, although woven through choral voices and a 13-piece orchestra, are channeled into an aesthetic that suits the ambience of a sweat-infused warehouse.

Returning to their British roots, TNP have referenced the Benjamin Britten opera “Peter Grimes” as an influence for their latest forray into musical experimentation. Fusing these operatic overtones with London electronica movements—dubstep and dancehall—Barnett has conceived an album which ricochets from ostentatious and oppressive climaxes to moments of melodic escapism. The result is a somewhat tiring journey, but it is a ride worth taking.

The darkly resonant, almost tribal, beats which raid songs such as “We Want War” convey an immense darkness while Barnett plots an exploration of his own personal psyche (“Three thousand thoughts in our mind / That’s when we’re slicing through time”). The orchestral movements of “We Want War” constitute a deluge of dark intensity, particularly when the drums break into an episode of gothic-inspired choric voices, pushing the song to a climax of musical splendor.

Despite achieving moments of such expansive grandeur, the songs can at times become rather unbearable. “Orion” is one of the most pompous tracks: soaring ensemble vocals lay over incessant drum beats, drowning out Barnett’s own simplistic vocal droning. The result is certainly powerful, reminiscent of the melodramas of opera, however in merging so many elements the song loses the beauty and resonance of its simplicity.

Although tracks such as “Orion” can seem contrived, the beautiful levity and simplicity of “Hologram” punctuates this heaviness. “Hologram” retains the ceaseless drum beats which adorn every track, but here they are lighter and seem to caress the piano melody. Meanwhile, Barnett’s unpretentious voice is freed from the digital modification it goes through elsewhere. In holding back from electronic manipulation and overt classicism, TNP unearth a true gem. “Hologram” is a small nest of musical escapism, and the lyrics tackle a similar theme—“Shut the door / Because I’m staying here / The world might disappear / Under blankets of snow.” The song offers relief from the tracks surrounding and overcrowding it; it is a true exploration of the band’s musical abilities.

The songs which shine on this album are those in which Barnett’s voice is allowed to emerge from the shadows. His simple and rough vocals bring the fantastical nature of many of the operatic pieces back to an earthly level. “White Chords” maintains a heavy electronic presence, though the instrumental backdrop serves to credit Barnett’s voice. His already rough sound seems even lazy, yet effective, as he murmurs and croaks into the microphone. Losing the operatic immensity but retaining many of its stylistic elements, this track achieves a hedonistic unity between the dubstep beats and classical influences—a unity that is missing on other tracks.

TNP have attempted something on an immense scale. Their ambition sometimes gets the better of them. The incorporation of operatic influences into electronic experimentation often forms overstuffed tracks with too great an intensity. While the beats embrace a dancehall headiness, there are moments when the variety of elements do not quite merge into a coherent contiguity of meaning and sound. Their attempt is interesting and provocative and it is an ambitious step which deserves merit for its imagination. It almost works, but “Hidden” narrowly misses its target.