Wild and rambunctious, Easy finds The Weeks entering their second decade fully charged and flush with brash exuberance. Whereas earlier efforts found the band more subdued in its stance, the new album boasts a kinetic delivery that keeps it energized throughout. That’s evident from the outset, and on tracks such as “Talk Like That,” “Sevens,” “Bottle Rocket” and “Start It Up,” The Weeks plow ahead at full tilt, barely taking time to catch their collective breath. Having made their base in both Nashville and Mississippi, The Weeks transported their Southern sensibilities to Ardent Studios in Memphis, finding themselves midway between their homes, old and new. The archival feel, imbued by those historic environs is evident on tracks like “Hands on the Radio” and “Gold Doesn’t Rust,” where the sound of Southern grit gives the music a soulful quality that’s not out of sync with more upbeat entries. This is an affirmative offering by any definition, complete with kick-ass choruses and resolute refrains that guarantee an immediate impression. It isn’t a matter of insurgence; to the contrary, The Weeks convey the immediacy of everyday concerns with a desire to unfurl their frustrations in ways others can relate to. So while a song like “Blame” seeks a scapegoat for apparent misfortune, there isn’t a focus on specific targets. “Blame me, blame anyone you want,” singer Cyle Barnes suggests over the song’s pulsating beat. Ultimately, The Weeks are an everyman ensemble railing about reality, with the riveting hooks needed to corral their concerns.