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This deceptively named British band's second album revisits the terrific uproar of its debut only briefly before jumping headlong into more expansive, proggier territory. Both of ¡Forward, Russia!'s dramatic personae -- furious and brooding -- bleed convincingly dramatic desperation, whether they're imagining a sequel to At the Drive-In ("We Are Grey Matter") or giving an operatic twist to Bloc Party (the wiggly, infectious "A Prospector Can Dream"). Even the rafter-reaching sorta-ballads work: Bombastic closer "Spanish Triangles" takes almost nine minutes to reach a joyous choral conclusion.