According to his wild onstage patter in the second encore of Ben Folds Five's rock show on Monday night, Ben Folds is white and middle-class, and he's got nothing to cry about.

Oddly enough, so are many of the characters in his songs. Yet cry they do, throughout the first two Ben Folds Five records and on the latest BFF record, The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner. His characters are a few steps below average; they're not just normal, they're normal and flawed. And it's not even one big heroic flaw, like the weak heroes of many Springsteen tunes. Some of these guys are flat-out assholes, and Folds has always had a knack for capturing assholes perfectly. You even know his characters are assholes, but you laugh at them instead of hating them. Who knows--you might even sympathize with them.

There are plenty of assholes on the new record, or maybe just the titular asshole. Messner emerges as a concept album of sorts, conjuring glimpses of the life of a very average Joe as he moves through his life toward its inevitable conclusion. He falls in love, fucks it up, spends time in the hospital, contemplates the army and seeks to hide his redneck past. But it's a loose connection and not a strict cohesion, more of a Sergeant Pepper construction than a Tommy framework, which leaves listeners with another collection of brilliant, confounding, catchy-as-a-cold songs about assholes.

They're also mostly slow to mid-tempo numbers, charting BFF's further evolution away from the arenaesque energetic pop of their deubt record and toward a more mature and measured sound. The songs are gorgeous, especially the Bacharach-flavored "Don't Change Your Plans" and Darren Jessee's solo songwriting debut on a BFF record, the heartwrenching "Magic." But anyone looking for the chaos of "Julianne" or even the witty jaunt of "Underground" might be better off sticking with the CD single for "Army." It's a slow, moody record and not at all a BFF funfest.

Yet though they're not as uptempo as some would like, the songs are all nearly perfect. Like so many great songwriters, Folds cleverly avoids much direct connection between the characters he sings about and himself. Yet at the same time, one always gets the sense of demons being exorcized as he sings. Is he the wistful and torn lover of "Don't Change Your Plans" who realizes he belongs at home even as it keeps him from being with his lover? Or is he speaking to himself in the Joe Jackson-esque "Your Redneck Past" as he advises, "Laws vary from state to state/Get you some books on tape/to learn about holes in space"? The line between singer and lyric is blurry at best, which only increases the fascination in so much of Folds' work. Is he the closet asshole, exposing his dark side in his music, or is he just really good at writing about assholes?

Either way, Folds' music would be far less without the aid of his bandmates, drummer Jessee and bassist Robert Sledge. The album's opener, "Narcolepsy," is a well-crafted tune, there's no doubt about that. But it'd be far less in realization without the explosive energies of Jessee and Sledge. The song conjures a seventies' orchestral rock vibe--largely through the assistance of a full string section--and its drive towards its climax is fueled entirely by Jessee's cataclysmic drumming and Sledge's incisive bass work. The guy knows how to make a bass guitar sound like ten electric lead guitars better than any man in music.

Though I love this new album dearly, I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the wacky antics of early Ben Folds Five. They're growin' up and gettin' married and makin' babies now, and I respect the maturity rising up in their music. Still, toss in the occasional line like "I met this girl who looked like Axl Rose," or "I've got your old I.D. and you're all dressed up like the Cure" and I'd love Messner even more. As it is, it's a gorgeous enough record, full of classic songs and inspired playing from the tightest combo in music today. It's definitely a must-buy disc...and if you're an asshole yourself, then all the better.