Alaskan rockers and punctuation rebels Portugal. The Man return to Town Ballroom tonight supporting the release of their Danger Mouse produced LP, Evil Friends (review here). Danger Mouse's neo-soul approach seems tailor made for the bluesy falsetto of John Gourley. Their eighth album in seven years, they now boast a more prolific catalog than most bands do in their entire careers, an impressive feat for a relatively young act. Their last visit to the Town Ballroom in April 2012 boasted one of the more inventive light shows I've seen at the venue, with multicolored bulbs enveloping the stage and reaching out above the pit. It's anybody's guess what they have in store for this tour, I can't wait to find out. Skaters opens the show, with doors at 7 and tickets going for $25.

Portugal. The Man have joined forces with the ever-brilliant Danger Mouse to create an album of wickedly energetic but listener-friendly anthems. Evil Friends, the Alaskan natives' eighth album in seven years, is yet another example of the prolific band's hyperactive ability to craft glittering MGMT-style art-rock. Early album tracks like "Creep in a T-Shirt" and "Evil Friends" feature Portugal. The Man at their most gleefully enjoyable, turning haughty gibes into brave psychedelic masterpieces.

Pondering the path of mankind, the record actively pursues the most fundamental of questions: "What do we do with our lives?" Though the spiritual struggles that crop up throughout Evil Friends lack the subtlety and precision of Vampire Weekend's recent foray into the metaphysical, Evil Friends does consciously explore "blind faith vs. blind rejection", "blindly live for now vs. blindly live for later" territory with compelling results.

Alternately, moral, immoral, and amoral, Portugal. The Man's lyrics curve toward an intense longing for belief, though belief in what proves fairly perplexing. Belief in self seems (unsurprisingly) excessively self-indulgent on "Modern Jesus." Belief in drugged pleasure and fame as end-goals on "Ecstasy" is childish and by the band's own definition "evil." Belief in romantic love as an all-healing salve serves as cowardly distraction on "Smile." Religion is unreliable. Agnostic unknowing is uncomfortable and useless.

The band performs with enough belief and conviction, however, to make Evil Friends an ambitiously entertaining, frequently invigorating, electrically-charged experience. Danger Mouse's production brings out the band's merits in exciting and encouraging ways, capitalizing on each tinkle of sound, each strumming rattle of guitars and pointed inflection in singer John Gourley's chilly, nasal post-Oasis voice. Evil Friends is an album to be believed in, demonstrating the range of the Danger Mouse-touch and the continued relevance of Portugal. The Man's tripped-out indie jam band vision.

Grade: B+