For a new band, a successful debut can be more a curse than a blessing. How can you escape the record’s shadow without making something so different that you alienate existing fans? It’s such a conundrum that there’s a term for it: the Sophomore Slump.

Bands rise or fall on the strength of their second record. Hundreds of acts fade into obscurity after failing to deliver on the promise of their debut.

But some bands make an indisputable masterpiece.

Coming off of Gorilla Manor, Local Natives was riding a high spot. They landed on a number of year-end lists. They played Coachella and SXSW and any other hipster music festival you could think of.

Then, two things happened.

Their bassist left the group. Since most of them were multi-instrumentalists anyway, they decided to carry on as a four-piece, and co-lead singer Kelcey Ayer’s mother passed away.

These two experiences colored the entire record. The shifting lineup found the remaining members wrestling with their sonic palette. The instrumentation is less dense, and it fits differently in their hands. Songs were written on less familiar instruments—to great effect. Opener “You and I” was born out of a piano part written by one of the guitarists (I heard it on a radio show once, and I wish I could find it, so I could be more specific).

The lyrics are also much more introspective. While Gorilla Manor spends a lot of time in wide-eyed adolescent idealism, Hummingbird is a darker affair.  The narrator finds himself isolating himself to grieve. He waxes on stale love and the loss of joy.

Which isn’t to say this is a complete left turn. Through these traumas, most of the band’s elements remain intact—the vocals are strong as ever. The electric guitar licks are just as bright. The drums roll without ceasing. It’s as if all of the best parts from Gorilla Manor were isolated and expanded into a full record, without the more vapid, poppy moments.

And through all of the talk of this being a dark record, it doesn’t necessarily sound like it. The lead single “Breakers” could almost pass for a dance track. “Wooly Mammoth,” for all of its chaotic interplay would be a great choice for a summer road trip mix. There are plenty of heart-wrenching moments, but this is still an entirely rewarding record. This is the grief process set to pop music, without skimping on either.

And while I’ve never set to ranking my favorite records—mostly due to the crushing pressure of the thing—this record is somewhere near the top. Within the top 25, easy.