So is that where the story ends? “Experimental pop band on the fringes of the rock underground scores one big heart-warming upset before they wrap up the get-in-the-van period of their lives?” Well, not from the sound of Change. In fact, from the sound of this record, this band isn't experimental anymore, and they no longer dwell solely on the fringes. They're nothing less than artistic leaders now, and Change is proof.

The band has talked a lot of very public talk about the north stars that were guiding them for this album: D'Angelo, Joni Mitchell, Marvin Gaye, Steely Dan, Talking Heads... it all sounded a little peculiar (particularly the Steely Dan part) and could certainly lead one to worry that they were making their dreaded white-wine-and-401(k) “mature” album. But one listen to Change will make the connections clear: without giving up an ounce of urgency or emotional truth, the band has crafted one of those rich, patient albums that lets the listener take it in at their own pace and depth. You think Voodoo, or Remain In Light, or What's Going On, and you think of worlds awaiting you, not just songs to hear. At risk of hyperbole: this is Change.

Among the many tools in the Dismemberment Plan's kit is a remarkable way with melody, and for the first time, they've made a record that fully explores their ability to craft gorgeous tunes. The colors are astoundingly varied, from the baroque, Beatles-y drift of “Following Through” to the Brazilian lilt of the drum-’n'-bass-fired “The Other Side” and the minor key dread of “Time Bomb” and “The Face Of The Earth.” The melodies develop in a strikingly patient way and the band really doesn't do one of their patented spazz-outs once.

The jittery, post-punk funk that has always been one of the Plan's calling cards is still there, but it's more subtle now. The wizardly album-ender “Ellen and Ben” bounces with a spry cheer worthy of classic Slick Rick or Jackson 5, and the album fires up with the celestial house-music thump of “Sentimental Man.” In between there's everything from stealthy Latin circularity (“Come Home”) to “Time Bomb”'s new-wave slink. The band has been on the prowl for new beats since day one, but the rhythmic variety and expressiveness on this record is something to behold. Without ever being showy about it, the Plan constantly creates unusual and innovative textures from things as varied as a Japanese koto (“The Face of The Earth”) and children's toys (the priceless video game sounds on “Ellen and Ben.”)