No matter how much music evolves, a few things remain absolutely timeless. Things like easy melodies, singalong choruses, and a truly gnarly electric guitar tone.

Mikal Cronin understands this better than most people. His second solo record isn’t revolutionary by any stretch, but dang if it isn’t great.

I forget exactly what circumstances led me to get this record. I’m a little out of the loop on the prolific distortion factory that is the Mikal Cronin/Ty Segall conglomerate. MCII was absolutely not the first time I heard his name thrown around. But for whatever reason, when I saw Pitchfork’s Best New Music tag on this record, I decided to give it a go. After all, I love a Big Muff as much as the next guy.

But I was delightfully surprised to find that this isn’t a fuzzed-out, wall-of-sound kind of record. There are certainly moments of fuzzy catharsis, but the record is much breezier than that. As a whole, the record is closer to sunshine pop than garage rock. Acoustic guitars, tambourines, and piano accompany the bright, lazy melodies with gleeful rock ‘n’ roll abandon.

“Weight” opens the record with a piano arpeggio before kicking into a bonafide power pop anthem. Urgent drums drive the song through clean guitar riffs, acoustic strums, and Cronin’s own unaffected voice. And when the fuzz guitar finally does kick in during the chorus, it’s pure gold.

“Weight” informs most of the sonic palette for the rest of the album. “Shout It Out” could be a Beach Boys b-side if it replaced its giant electric guitar tones with similarly huge harmonies. “Peace of Mind” is carried by a bright, jangling 12-string guitar with a slide guitar mingling with strings through the background like a George Harrison track. “Change” opens with a punk riff that seems to suggest a more raucous turn, but it’s just as jangling and sunny as the rest of the songs. The closer “Piano Mantra” spends its first half as a restrained ballad, Cronin’s voice accompanied by only piano and strings before a bombastic conclusion that feels a bit like Sigur Rós in a garage.

Again, this sound is nothing new. But Mikal Cronin draws from all of the best wells. His lineage stretches through groups like The Velvet Underground, Jesus and Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine, Dinosaur Jr., and Weezer—all groups whose fascinations with electric guitar noise could not overcome their love of pop melodies. And as a result, MCII is one of those rare records that is as noisy as it is catchy, able to satisfy rock and rollers and poptimists alike. And while I might not spin this record too frequently anymore, whenever I grab a few records to spin during a cookout (yes, I have a backyard record player), this is always in the pile.