Relationships of any sort are tough things. You have to work on them. You know, maintain them, get through those rocky patches, not complacently linger too long in the sweet spots to keep it evolving, changing and up with the times. Quasi’s Sam Coomes and Janet Weiss know a thing or two about keeping a relationship fresh and in tune. The pair, who’ve mutated from a husband-wife couple back to a more platonic best-friends-forever, divorcees in the real world, keep the dynamic shifting, fresh and healthy as a musical couple on When the Going Gets Dark.

Abandoning the pure pop angle of previous efforts, When the Going Gets Dark takes the duo into rougher neighborhoods than ever before. This time out, Quasi’s stuck in a tug-of-war between pop melodies, bad-trip freak-outs and rock’s battering dynamics. It’s a formula that’s more pointed, poignant and powerful than anything the act managed in its 13-year career.

It’s also the most difficult album in the band’s catalog. But, like any good relationship, a musical one isn’t always easy. You’re going to have to work at When the Going Gets Dark. Like sit down with a stiff drink, turn off the T.V. and talk through some issues work. Similar to patching up your relationship it’s not easy and not always immediately rewarding, but, ultimately, if you stick with it, When the Going Gets Dark is worth the sweat it takes to move things to the next level.

Quasi jumps in and takes everything to the next level on When the Going Gets Dark. The duo doesn’t so much play pop as it wrings it dry, smacks it with a flurry of guitar, keys and Weiss’ powerful drumming and shreds it with a liberal dose of psychedelia. Coomes and Weiss’ lyrics are nearly as playful and clever as ever – check the “I’m Popeye the sailor man/I live in a garbage can” phrasing in “Alice The Goon” – this album has a weight and a force to it we’ve never heard out of Quasi. “Alice the Goon” opens the album with a glorious cacophony that’s like pile-driving a guitar-and-drum duo into an upright piano – but in a mind-bendingly wonderful, punks-dropping-acid sort of way. “Poverty Sucks” lays on the ’60s guitar work thick, as Coomes juggles leads and Nor-Cal rock figures, while “I Don’t Know You Anymore,” led by Coome’s workable-if-not-magnificent keyboard skills, wobbles on the border between skewered lo-fi pop and studio-burning rock’n’roll. Quasi’s never been as raw, as loud or as uncomfortably at ease with each other as on this one.

The duo wraps itself in idiosyncrasies like never before, too. That means there are a few roadblocks to settling into this album. Quasi’s art-school take on pop leads to contorted arrangements and noisy production (thanks in part to producer Dave Fridmann’s work in the mix). It’ll make your ears ring and head spin when you hunt for Quasi’s slippery pop side, but don’t worry: With the patience to ride out the new developments, Quasi’s latest reveals itself to be an art-pop-rock gem.