While the debate rages over whose shoulders will next be draped in the cloak of Bruce Springsteen (Will be Win Butler? Or OMG, maybe Jeff Tweedy?), another band has been quietly peddling a pop-ified brand of rootsy American pop-rock to the folks who will probably do the deciding. Before we pick the next great American band, let us not forget that Arcade Fire and Wilco remain unknown to a whole lot of people who are about to start hearing Augustana everywhere. If some small sector of the masses somehow managed to escape “Boston,” then it will probably be Can’t Love, Can’t Hurt that ropes them into this indulgent but irresistible orbit.

On its marginally successful debut, All the Stars and Boulevards, Augustana was a one-trick pony— that is, if you don’t mind counting the equal parts of slow piano ballad and up-tempo guitar rock as one well-trodden, bankable formula. Easy to swallow and easily forgettable, Boulevards seemed fueled by the raw desire to be someday heard on television behind sweeping images of Chevrolet trucks— with that very American sounding distortion and Dan Layus’ reedy, occasionally raspy vocals. Every song was a similar exercise— a hooky melody, multiple well-blended guitars, and Americana clichés (references to innumerable states, streets, afternoons, lovers, etc)— and none were quite mature or distinctive enough to garner airplay outside the college market and those who turn to Grey’s Anatomy for their weekly musical selections.

This time, Augustana has adopted the philosophy that propelled the Goo Goo Dolls to national stardom— forget grit and do only one thing, but do it in such an addictive fashion that, while everyone will deny liking it, no one will be able to resist. (You know what they say: 95% do and the rest are lying.) They’re only capable of writing catchy, summer-soundtrack pop songs, though Layus slides into twangy singing with greater frequency and bluesy rock makes more consistent, substantive appearances. Ironically for an album that makes Augustana even more attractive to mainstream outlets, the band is more at home here in this less-gritty environment— less intense, more melodic, and roundly more engaging.

Lead single “Sweet and Low” is a tepid indicator, but works as an easy litmus test: if you liked it, you’ll like the rest even better. Augustana’s melodies have progressed from catchy to hyper-catchy, with tight harmony stacked on top of most of the vocal lines, bookended by delicious, radio-friendly riffs. “Meet You There,” a driving anthem destined for summer playlists everywhere, and “Either Way I’ll Break Your Heart,” are endowed with incessant replay value— the kind of light-and-fluffy songs you can listen to twenty times in a row and still not get enough. “I Still Ain’t Over You” opens in fine Southern-rock style with sliding distortion, muted strumming, and gratuitous but grammatically correct use of the contraction “ain’t.”

In its rare darker moments, Can’t Love is muscular and sinister. “Dust,” for example, matter-of-factly feels the absence of God (“I used to believe in the Lord, but he don’t show up anymore”) and weighs righteous idealism against the inevitability of human degeneracy (“If you can’t love sin, who can you love?”). All delivered, appropriately, over the hardest distortion on the record and a bone-crunching underscore of a bass line.

Of course, an Augustana album wouldn’t be complete without some string-bathed power ballads and “Twenty Years” and “Fire” are here to fill the prescription. The former is wispy, mournful, and generic, dropping huge gobs of orchestration onto a slab of piano; the latter, an ode to burnin’ love, sounds like a voice-lesson exercise with a textbook piano accompaniment to match. Layus completely sells every line of sentiment, and fans of unbridled earnestness are certain to swoon.

Augustana is hardly less skin deep than the other big-label-backed young men their age in bands like OneRepublic or Cartel or Boys Like Girls. But in the days of the overcrowded pop-punk market and large-scale abandonment of rock by the folk-inclined Americana artist, Augustana are the lone voice delivering the classic American radio song. Not to mention increasingly adept crafters of pop melody. For now, that gives us something of a reason to listen— that and the albums full of summertime cotton candy.