Aging gracefully is not one of the key tenets of rock ’n’ roll. Some bands press on long after the ideas and enthusiasm have waned; others explode in balls of regret and bickering. But borrowing a tongue-in-cheek title from Leonard Bernstein, Superchunk offered a stirring reminder that it could be done on 2013’s I Hate Music, the group’s second record since restarting after a decade-long break. The band members were well into their forties by now, and lyrically, they show their age on I Hate Music: This is an album about squaring up to mortality, confronting loss’s lingering veil, and suggesting ways to bound forward with some sense of optimism. If that sounds too navel-gazing, don’t worry: It’s also an album full of rippers that manage to sound both real and relevant. When the four members of Superchunk quietly put the band on the shelf after 2001’s exploratory Here’s to Shutting Up, they’d been at work for a dozen years, nearly riding the alt-rock wave to fame—but always thriving instead at the fore of indie rock. That gave Superchunk space to test new sounds and structures, and for Mac McCaughan to dig into his falsetto. Though such learning experiences were clear enough on 2010’s compulsive and punchy Majesty Shredding, they again bloomed on I Hate Music, which opens on an extended synth jam that empties into acoustic strums, and ends with an anthem in which keyboards undergird a need for escape. What’s more, there are new song structures and arrangements here, from the shout-out-loud harmonies of the irrepressible “Me & You & Jackie Mittoo” to the clap-out-loud breakdown of “FOH.” The members of Superchunk had learned to let go of expectations of acceptability—and, in the process, their music had become instantly accessible. Age, of course, can do that to you—and also lead you to consider life in a different context. While circa-1989 Superchunk was impetuous and sometimes irate, the Superchunk of 2013 was playing a different game—one in which friends were dying, and living seemed like a precious commodity: “Overflows” is about holding onto each other tight through the tumult, while “Void” rails against the approaching abyss. But having already endured for a quarter-century, Superchunk turns toward the future at the album’s end, pledging to confront disaster forevermore on “What Can We Do”—a finale indebted to Springsteen and survival.