Twenty years and eighth albums into their career, Stereophonics may well have carved a niche that they can plunder for another decade or so without recrimination or ill will. Past endeavours have flitted aimlessly from acoustic peddling to meat’n’potatoes rock, troubling the charts occasionally with Jones’ gravelly vocal the distinctive calling card that marks them out from those ploughing a similar furrow. The years and tours have smoothed that voice, and it’s a more mature sounding Jones that helms ‘Graffiti On The Train’.

If you are one to surmise about such things, it’s no stretch to see the death of ex-drummer and school friend Stuart Cable in 2010 as having some bearing on the album’s often-times dark meanderings. This release, their first in four years, is big on production – the reverb-y guitars that typify it leave no real distinction between the songs, and although there is a cohesive ‘album’ feel sonically and thematically, there is little to suggest any great leaps forward in the band’s sound.

Opener We Share The Same Sun is bland, forgettable, big chorus-y radio-fodder that ticks every box along the instant gratification/instantly forgettable axis. There’s no denying Jones’ songwriting capabilities, though, regardless of your views on the music. The songs on ‘Graffiti…’ are, in the main, well crafted, and flow from beginning to end seamlessly with suitably dramatic embellishment. If at times it’s overcooked, it’s overcooked in style. An overarching influence of Americana permeates proceedings in the sound and lyrical content, flirting with desert rock, though at times it drifts in an unfortunate, latter stages Kings Of Leon direction.

Jones has undoubtedly taken things down a more widescreen route on this release. Graffiti On The Train, with its big, echoing distortion solo, is another song about death on the tracks, bridging the years since Local Boy In The Photograph. Even more dark and sombre is Take Me; what at first appears to be a song about a one night stand – “I don’t know you/ You don’t know me/ Who’s to know what will be” – feels ultimately more like a murder ballad. Things ebb and flow in hit-and-miss fashion. The synthetic intro of In A Moment sticks out like a sore thumb, while Indian Summer channels Springsteen via Meatloaf, with no disrespect to either man.

The enjoyably straight ahead rocker Catacomb leads to the quiet-loud-quiet dynamic of Roll The Dice, whose paranoid “don’t you know they’re out to get you?” denouement then leads neatly into the ‘life is cheap’ travelogue of Violins and Tambourines. Jones sings of murder, drugstores, redemption, candy canes and preachers, conjuring Badlands imagery before the song turns into a double time, drivin’ down the highway rocker with the singer intoning over the top. Been Caught Cheating is a country blues lament on an age-old theme, and the album’s surprise treat. This could be The Faces playing after hours and ripping the piss, call and response style, with shouty, bloke-y rejoinders. There’s a sense of fun, from the playfulness of the solo and its slant on…well, a standard country blues solo, to the background, barroom hollers of the band.

Jones occasionally allows these odd cracks of light to infiltrate the album, particularly on final number No-one’s Perfect, where he concludes “Tomorrow, you’ll see/ You’ve made a better man of me”, a redemptive admission to that beacon of light who will save his soul. This saccharine ballad will entice many a lighter into the air at forthcoming Stereophonics gigs, make no mistake. As Stereophonics albums go this will no doubt rank highly in their overall oeuvre. Jones conjures up some old-school imagery in the Americana vein, while the band provides a full-on backdrop for him to project onto. It’s not groundbreaking stuff, but it’s better than anything they’ve come up with in years. This one may even convert a few sceptics and non-believers.