“Group Therapy,” Concrete Blonde’s first original album since 1994, is reminiscent of the band’s earlier works in a way that brings any fan right back to the place he or she was mentally upon first discovering what a great band this is.

The first track of the album, a gritty rock ballad called “Roxy,” is a clap of the hands at how healthy the original three members of the band sound for being at least 20 years older than most people in their target audience. It’s part goth and part Southern rock, mixed with decades of pent-up frustration at not being critically recognized, which has become Blonde’s recipe for a timeless sound.

While already determined to be a kick-ass band, its efforts are not without flaws.

As solid as the band members are lyrically and musically, Johnette Napolitano’s lead vocals can be simultaneously mesmerizing and annoying.

Much like all its other CDs, several songs on “Group Therapy” act as background music (filler), while the hidden gems wait to emerge. One of those not so great songs is “True, Part Three,” which showcases what happens when a talented singer relies too much on past success to provide a noteworthy album. The song drones on without fully engaging the members’ efforts.

One of the best Concrete Blonde songs ever written follows shortly after.

An unpredictability that lends to the effectiveness of this band is that while one song could be a sleeper, the next one could knock your socks off. Track eight, “Take Me Home,” is one of those songs.

Opening with a slick and greasy Southern-style slide guitar riff, the song eases into classic Johnette vocals that hint at one too many cigarettes. The vocals, about drunks stumbling home from a bar, never have sounded so good.

One of this singer’s major appeals is that she could sing about almost anything and make it sound life-altering. With “Take Me Home,” she quickly makes the CD worthy of the $16.99 paid for it.