Hysterical is built for the long haul, and it appears, after a patch of rocky terrain, that Clap Your Hands are too.

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It’s straightforward, competently balanced, dewily lush art-pop, but it’s also a deeply affecting, immersive treat

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CYHSY have created an album that is both jubilant and disarmingly vulnerable. Their future starts now.

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Nevertheless, Hysterical marks a significant return to form and fortune for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah.

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There are more songs as good, or as efficient, as that on Hysterical, and all of them are worth your time of day.

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The epic closer "Adam's Plane," with its ambient noise and piano hammering, bridges the old and new approaches, showing a band that can scale up without losing its underdog spirit.

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But regaredless of the strength of most of the material, it will be the same fickle community of tastemakers that will determine whether the record pushes the band forward or leaves them confined to indie rock purgatory.

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Whether it's the Marmite quality of Ounsworth's voice or wading into these songs swimming with guitars and noises, there will be something here to enjoy

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The album stays firmly planted in the post-punk/synth pop wheelhouse, which means that it's incredibly consistent, but not necessarily surprising, which could be a good or bad thing for fans, depending on whether they prefer their debut or their sophomore album.

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From the bouncy ‘Same Mistake’ (this album’s ‘Is This Love?’), to the darkly nostalgic ballad to years past, ‘Misspent Youth’, it’s a comeback as irrationally happy-inducing as its title suggests

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Hysterical is almost hypnotic in its unerring consistency.

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For a band that once never failed to make an impression, be it positive or nauseating, the fact that the best Hysterical can muster is indifference is simply disappointing.

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The trouble is, CYHSY now sound more or less exactly like The Killers. And we already have one of those.

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Hysterical, by contrast, is anything but -- it's an overly gauzy, booming-echo epic that doesn't leave much trace after it's over.

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Mostly, Hysterical is lost in a hazy cloud that is more Dan Bejar than it is David Byrne.

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CYHSY has reeled back the infectious madness, softening the edges once made so acute by pinwheeling guitars, buoyant bass, and danceable rhythms.

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It has its moments – the title track has a certain chutzpah – but a lack of killer hooks means there's precious little to get excited about here.

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