The Kadane brothers used to be in a band called Bedhead, who a lot of people liked because they sounded not unlike the Velvet Underground and wrote sad, lovely songs about being sad and lovely and having fairly ambitious beards. Further, one of the band's auteurs was named Bubba Kadane, which certainly set them apart from many of their peers and made their aficionados like them more. (If it's any measure of fan loyalty, the profusion of websites and mailing lists available online shocked even this longtime fan.) But then Bedhead broke up, which was sad and not very lovely. Now les freres Kadane have started a new band called the New Year, whose first LP is called Newness Ends, which isn't particularly sad. Thankfully, it's still pretty damned lovely.

Everything surrounding the New Year's debut screams "break with the past." Seeing as the guys elect to use the word "new" in both album title and band name, someone might get the idea that these guys have something to prove. After all, Bedhead's sinuous, country-inflected sorrow and chimy guitar lines could be argued as one of the Ground Zeroes for the current slow-core renaissance, making theirs one of '90s-vintage indie rock's most distinctive, influential sounds. The obvious question for the band that now contains the braintrust of such a blockbuster act is whether to follow down the same path of their previous triumphs or to light out for new territory.

Newness Ends cannily splits the difference between innovation and nostalgia. The New Year features Chris Brokaw on drums, where he follows roughly the same steps he did behind the kit for Codeine, another seminal drowsy-rock combo. His tempos here are a little juicier than they were in his Codeine days, as if his other occasional work as axeman for vicious avant-bluesers Come has led him to understand the virtues of amping up a bit.

Not uncoincidentally, the New Year seem more willing to rock than their immediate antecedents ever were. "Reconstruction" builds from a quiet, circular guitar figure into a roiling jam, signaling the band's development from a frail, occasionally silent rock band into an edgier, more rock-and-roll outfit. Similarly, "Gasoline" hurtles forward, propelled by skittery drumming and endlessly inventive soloing. Though no one's going to mistake the New Year for the Donnas, someone involved here has connected with their inner Angus Young.

Or, at any rate, their inner Albini. Mr. Shellac committed this LP to tape, and though it's hardly the grot-rock he's become known for, his less-is-more approach certainly aids Newness Ends. Now that the boys in the band are playing harder, with more propulsive riffs and structures, the bare-bones effects of the recording make them sound even leaner and, god forbid, meaner. Where music of this variety can often disappear into its own navel without warning, the New Year sound hale, healthy and ready to rock.

Bear in mind, though, that on their swansong collaboration with compatriots Macha, Matt and Bubba Kadane managed to make Cher's "Believe" into a somber dirge, and their sedated side doesn't go neglected here, either. "One Plus One Minus One Equals One" is the sort of mumbled hymn that marmoset-looking character from Bright Eyes would give important teeth for: Nashville-esque lead guitar co-exists peaceably with subtle washes of feedback, and the band's rhythm section patiently anchors the track. "Alter Ego" is endearing, strummy pop that builds to a complex instrumental climax without ever turning into abstraction or sludge.

So much of the Kadanes' new effort indicates a self-consciousness about their place in the cosmos. Newness Ends, from its title on down, seems conscious of the ways in which it looks to Bedhead's accomplishments while plotting the future. At the same time, the band's name bespeaks a certain hope for change and possibility. Let's hope both prophecies turn out to be true.

-Sam Eccleston