The new album by Phish, simply named Joy, is the band's 14th studio release in its 25-year recording history and its first since reuniting after a five-year hiatus. Unlike the group's previous album, Undermind, which was slated to be the last, Joy is an unmitigated success from start to finish. Gone are the long-winded, saccharine ballads and uninspired, undemanding radio-pop songs that made for a particularly graceless exit. Now, the foursome adheres to the maxim "If it's not broken, don't fix it" and plays to its strengths in order to craft something altogether enjoyable and unmistakably, Phish. At no point is this more obvious than during the climax to the stellar folk-rock album opener, "Backwards Down the Number Line." In a faithful homage to the late Jerry Garcia, guitarist Trey Anastasio gradually builds up a magnificent arrangement of soaring notes played in the upper registers in his recognizable yet unique tone. Supporting the guitarwork is a familiar backdrop that consists of cascading piano notes and gentle bass counter-harmonies, all over a characteristically simple three-chord structure. Elsewhere, the band reaches back into other tried-and-true areas of its past, touching on funky rock ("Stealing Time from the Faulty Plan"), blues-boogie ("Kill Devil Falls") and a touch of Caribbean music ("Sugar Shack").

The lyrics are, at times, prone to introspection and regret, as when Trey Anastasio sings, "I was doing the best that I can, I suppose," in apparent reference to his drug addiction and recent arrest. On the final track, "Twenty Years Later," he admits that he is "still upside down" after decades of making mistakes. And in the aforementioned "Backwards Down the Number Line," a retrospective meditation on the band's career, the musicians remember how together they have "pushed through hardships, tasted tears."

Nevertheless, as the title promises, the album is infused with a sense of joy: specifically, the joy of reunion and return. The opening lyrics, "Happy, happy, oh my friend," speak for themselves. The theme of friendship between the band members and with similiar connections with their audience resurfaces throughout. On the title track, arguably the jewel of the album, Anastasio sings, "We want you to be happy, 'cause this is your song, too." Although the song is ostensibly addressed to a girl named Joy, the message is overt: The band is here to provide more tuneful music for their audience to enjoy, and they themselves could not be happier to do so.

This sort of uncomplicated, forcibly sunny declaration is perhaps the reason why Phish and so many similar bands are often maligned and filed away as mediocre jam-bands. Undoubtedly, Phish will never be hip or edgy, but there is something to be said for the fact that Phish has perhaps the most loyal fan base of any existing band. Phish fans-and I, crypto-hippie that I am, unashamedly put myself in this category-will find listening to Joy to be, in a certain sense, the musical equivalent to coming home after years in exile or being reunited with a loved one after a prolonged absence. Through Joy, the members of Phish are telling their fans that their music is a gift meant to make us happy.

I put this question to any Phish detractor: How many bands can make such an assertion without alienating their audience? After all, this is our album, too.