It’s probably fairly common to see the world as your oyster right out of high school. Perhaps you’re working your first job at a neighborhood coffee shop and hanging around public parks because they’re the only spots that are willing to have you when you’re too young for bars. Despite the lack of respect, the lack of responsibility you have is freeing and simple to comprehend. This is the teenage naivete documented on the Desaparecidos’ Read Music/Speak Spanish, and it was this fresh-faced innocence that made the debut of Conor Oberst’s post-hardcore project so heartbreaking. Within the first five songs—some of the most powerful songwriting from Oberst—you want these kids to make it, even though as an adult listener, you know they’re doomed.

It makes sense now, at this point in 2015, that we finally have a follow-up like Payola (Epitaph Records). It’s 14 songs meant to inspire a revolution, covering all of the United States’ shaky bases. Racial profiling (“Marikkkopa”), mistreatment of immigrants (“Radicalized”), unequal distribution of wealth (“Golden Parachutes”), and even extreme cell phone use (“Slacktivist”)—among other issues—are the focus of Oberst’s rage, so it’s only fitting that he chooses Desaparecidos as his outlet, while also enlisting the help of other socially minded artists like the So So Glos and Against Me! frontwoman Laura Jane Grace.

The Desaparecidos are grounded in the same principles they were 13 years ago, but while Read Music had a storytelling quality that added to its mystique, Payola is direct in its fury, as if the kids grew up to become their cynical, though perhaps correct, dads. It’s in that respect that Payola could’ve used some of the premier songwriter wit Oberst showed on Read Music and in his work as Bright Eyes. Listening to “The Left Is Right,” the de facto abstract of Payola, if you didn’t know where it is going by the title alone, you know by, “We’re takin’ it back for the greater good, goddamn Robin Hoods.” It’s effective as a bleeding-heart liberal anthem, however if it weren’t for Oberst’s articulation and specific sense of passion, it would be in the league of lazy mall punk songwriters. And unfortunately, much of Payola operates on the same level.

However, lyrical shortcomings and all, Payola is still a raucously fun record like its predecessor. Desaparecidos are still where Oberst’s catharsis thrives and where he can scream about his dismay, as opposed to being an outright folk artist. In a sick way, one can only hope Oberst will never be complacent so he’ll never stop playing in his punk band.