What’s in a sleeve? In Keane’s case, quite a lot. Last time round, Under the Iron Sea deployed a Scandinavian folk-art motif – a sure sign that commercial considerations have given way to graver matters. On its release, we didn’t yet know that the frontman Tom Chaplin had given himself over to “partying”, as Heat calls it. But its effect on Tim Rice-Oxley, the trio’s literate, art-loving self-improver, was apparent. Glacial spook-pop epics such as Atlantic and A Bad Dream were two of the most extraordinary songs written by anyone that year.

It is, of course, all better now. On Perfect Symmetry, images of wintry desolation have given way to brash geometric patterns – which is a fair representation of the contents within. Nowhere is that more apparent than the opening (and best) song Spiralling, given away last month as a free download. Its first five seconds elapse before a camp falsetto “Oh!” establishes an unapologetically poptastic ambience. Never have Keane sounded more, well, keen.

For the listener, it’s a startling adjustment. Presented with a work of such deranged gusto, it’s hard to stomach more than three songs at a time without craving a brief purgative burst of, say, Syd Barrett at his most barmily disconsolate. Don’t be fooled then by a title such as Black Burning Heart, four minutes that incontrovertibly prove that being “mad for it” isn’t the sole domain of working-class northerners.

It’s hard to remember an album that came with such a sense of entitlement to the stadiums from which its songs were designed to boom. When you make it to your local arena, The Lovers are Losing and – with its grand choral climax – Perfect Symmetry will almost certainly detach the roof from the walls. But unless you’re Prince and your album comes free with a ticket to the show, that isn’t a recommendation in itself.

Again & Again typifies the problem. It simply sounds like Leaving So Soon from 2006 with the interesting bits taken out.

Even when the tunes improve, Rice-Oxley’s desire to get something off his chest can result in words that sound silly coming from Chaplin’s mouth. On Pretend That You’re Alone, it takes more than handclaps to popify lyrics that ponder “the delicate structures we all cling to in our lives”. And even if, come next year’s tour, Chaplin’s showmanship pays off, you wonder if any internal voices of dissent will be able to keep quiet as he sings: “You can do so much better than this.”

(Island, TMS £12.99, call 0845 6026328)

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