Ted Leo starts his second album pining for the salad days of rude-boy ska and romanticizing his old ’80s political punk roots in DC, with results that are by turns autobiographical, sentimental, and even intellectual. There are certain parallels to the socio-politically inspired songwriting of agit-pop Englishmen like Paul Weller and Billy Bragg, but mainly Leo comes off as a musically inclined guy with a bookish sensibility and an eagerness to rock out — perhaps the very definition of what was once called " college rock. " The rawness of his guitars and the hard-hitting backbeats of the Pharmacists have helped him find a place among today’s mod-inclined garage rockers, but few of his peers seem interested in writing lyrics about literary semiotics and international relations. In " The Ballad of a Sin-Eater, " he cites cinematic legends T.E. Lawrence and Beau Geste while recounting a xenophobe’s nightmare about Basque nationals and the French Foreign Legion. Words like " ossify " and " apostasy " turn up from time to time — and he even uses them correctly. Yet once the lyrics are in place, he’s not afraid to embrace raucous rock riffs and catchy choruses. From the pint-tipping Celtic swagger of " The Crane Takes Flight " to the punkish punch of " Tell Balgeary, Balgury Is Dead, " Hearts of Oak is a smart album that doesn’t overthink itself.