In the interest of full disclosure, The Silver Jews’ frontman David Berman is pretty much the greatest lyricist of all time. You will never find lyrics, past or present, that come close to Berman’s haunting imagery of fake IDs and honey bees. Of course, Jewel is a published poet too, but she can’t rock as hard as The Silver Jews—and the band rocks with great aplomb on its new CD, Tanglewood Numbers.

Besides Berman, The Silver Jews lineup consists of a rotating cast of characters, including but not limited to Berman’s various musician friends, members of the late, great, rock band Pavement and his wife Cassie, who first started singing backup vocals on the band’s last album, 2001’s Bright Flight.

This is the Jews’ post-rehab album. As Berman put it in a recent interview with Pitchfork Media, “My Y2K party lasted four years longer than I expected it to. It was fun. Not the last year. The last year was bad. I went to rehab. Relapsed a couple of times. Doing good now.” He also got married and survived at least one suicide attempt. It’s long past being a cliché that every rock band has a post-rehab album. This is Berman’s.

However, unlike many a post-rehab album, Tanglewood Numbers feels fresh and alive. While Bright Flight and 1998’s American Water (arguably the band’s best album) were alt-country classics, with more focus on the lyrical content than the music, Tanglewood Numbers rocks. Berman has even implied that he would be willing to tour and play live for this album, something pretty much unheard of from the private and quiet songwriter. (Did I mention he was mostly a poet?)

Oddly enough, the only weak element of the album is that the band members don’t go far enough on certain songs.“Sometimes a Pony Gets Depressed,” “I’m Getting Back into Getting Back into You” and “How Can I Love You (If You Won’t Lie Down?)” feel like they end a good minute and a half before they should. These songs never extend beyond three minutes, so they feel like they’re ending just before they get going.“Sometimes a Pony…” in particular seems to stop right before a good instrumental break.

Still, this is a Silver Jews record. And whether Berman and Co. are singing about where an animal sleeps when the ground is wet or writing a seven-minute narrative spook-ballad called“The Farmer’s Hotel,” they maintain a literary brilliancy. And thank the lord above that Berman didn’t die. He obviously has quite a lot of rocking to do.