For two decades, these Arizona-bred alt-rockers have been underground heroes, propelled by the complementary forces of vocalist-guitarist Curt Kirkwood and his bassist brother Cris as they've delivered driving, quirky yet poignant rock-pop-punk with forays into folky territory and psychedelia, often within one song.

On Golden Lies, however, the Pups' first album since 1995, there are changes afoot. Namely, Cris Kirkwood is out; the lineup now features Curt, guitarist Kyle Ellison, drummer Shandon Sahm, and former Bob Mould bassist Andrew Deplantis. Still, even without its founding force, Golden Lies is a lovely album -- odd, diverse, defying categorization, yet affecting, engaging and memorable, with warm vocals, full guitars, and bold production. The a cappella intro to "Hercules" morphs into a spare, heavy, ZZ Toppish groove, accompanied by a pleasingly whimsical vibe in lyrics, talk-singing vocals, and music, akin to a countrified Beck tune. The lyrical "Pieces of Me" has a Celtic tinge, and you could jig to "Push the Button" before the tune ends with a speedy, freeing, live-feeling jam. Uneasy time signatures and piercing, intricate, sometimes psychedelic guitar solos fit "Tarantula," while lyrics such as "witchcraft spoons breed rhinestone radioactive bull frogs in antique magnetic cream" might have been penned by Robyn Hitchcock.

Though deeply felt and beautifully rendered, these performances don't reflect what's "hot" circa 2000. But like artists including Built to Spill and Mike Watt, the Meat Puppets have retained what matters: integrity, creativity, and a core of rabid fans in journalists, musicians, and free-thinking music lovers everywhere. All of this is theirs for the asking, as long as they stick to the standards set on Golden Lies.