The concept behind Brutalism, a postwar architetural aesthetic, figures prominently in Ted Leo and the Pharmacists’ (TL/Rx) sixth studio album, “The Brutalist Bricks.” Like the raw concrete buildings meant to reveal the structure and function of their rooms through their exteriors, the album’s tracks combine to embody what seems to be the LP’s primary purpose. “Bricks” seeks to remain true to TL/Rx’s punk roots and commitment to a diverse range of musical genres, while experimenting with the style that has elevated the band into the indie rock consciousness. The album is thus built on the same foundation as all of its predecessors—smart lyrics layered on gratifying hooks—a formula that, if not flawed, has at least become predictable. When the group does attempt to diverge from the prescribed, it is compelling only on tracks which prevent the innovation from becoming overwhelming.

The album emerges with “The Mighty Sparrow,” a characteristic TL/Rx opener infused with energy and saturated with references to politics and romance—let it never be said that songwriter and frontman Ted Leo values rhyme over reason. Kicking off with Leo yelling “When the café doors exploded / I reacted to, reacted to you,” this track is an imperative statement. Coming from TL/Rx, its forcefulness is expected, but so is everything else—the song is unsurprising and ordinary. As flawless a blend as Leo’s falsetto, a tight drum line, and a melodic guitar solo can be, there’s no particular charm in stating the obvious. About as Ted Leo as Ted Leo can get, “The Mighty Sparrow” is an introduction indicative of an album whose success lies predominantly in songs that integrate a refined creativity into the usual repertoire.

Take “Even Heroes Have to Die,” an assertive stance on the reality of growing old, which Leo—now nearing 40—appears to regard with poise rather than panic. Powered by dynamic acoustic guitar, the upbeat melody has Leo singing, “Even heroes have to die / No one lives forever / No one’s wise to try.” The song is more reminiscent of the enervating, passionate style TL/Rx presented on 2004’s undervalued “Shake the Sheets”—and a thankful departure from the seriously underwhelming “Living with the Living,” 2007’s contender for album most in need of an edit—but it possesses a graduated feel, creating an explosive pop tune that is both infectious and arresting.

The band reveals a brilliant glimmer of versatility on “One Polaroid A Day,” which establishes its place amongst the loveliest songs TL/Rx have produced. Leo exchanges falsetto for throaty, deep musings that complement the subdued nature of this track. With an understated drumbeat and strumming bass, “Polaroid” is far from succumbing to muteness or timidity. Instead, the song is a subtly crafted gem, whose force lies in the band’s ability to augment a knack for a catchy beat with a heretofore rarely seen phenomenon—Leo exercising his vocal range. The novelty extends to “Gimme the Wire,” where riveting electric guitar riffs far outplay the frontman’s singing. For a band that so frequently pummels its music with politically charged lyrics, it’s refreshing to hear the rhythm guitar jam with such fervor, thrill, and prominence (even if, perhaps, unintentionally).

Where “Bricks” falters, however, is on those tracks that trade a beautifully rounded sound for wavering efforts to be distinctive. “Tuberculoids Arrive in Hop” could be haunting, but it’s overworked, and the result is a strange amalgamation of shrill tones bookended by segments that appear to have been recorded outside. The song is certainly different, but its oddness is remarkable only because it distinguishes itself from much of the rest of the album, which suffers from the conclusion that nine years after breakout debut “The Tyranny of Distance,” TL/Rx can still rock out—it’s just standard fare by now.

With tracks meant to fit coherently and easily into the larger constitution of an improved TL/Rx, “Bricks” too easily shows its cracks. The album purports to flow as seamlessly as the textured Brutalist buildings of the postwar era. But while its foundations remain solid, upon closer examination, “Bricks” is more often a revelation of the band’s disjointed endeavor to fuse old with new.

—Staff writer Denise J. Xu can be reached at dxu@fas.harvard.edu.