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Bandung-based heavy-metal band Rajasinga has no chance of becoming famous. Not that they would care. Basing their name on the Indonesian word for syphilis, the band’s mix of darkly humorous lyrical perversions and brutal music should keep them off the mainstream airwaves for a while.

“Rajagnaruk,” or “insolent” spelled backward in Indonesian, is the second full-length release from the trio of vocalist and bassist Morrg, co-vocalist and guitarist Biman and drummer Revan. The band finds a fine balance between vicious aural assault and thrash-metal catchiness on the new album. While the songs’ sonic homogeneity does bring a sense of clutter toward the record’s last few tracks, “Rajagnaruk” mostly stretches far beyond the usual boundaries of similar music.

Most of the tracks base themselves around grinding rhythms, but rarely feel stilted. Each song feels focused in reaching its mark — establishing early its melodicism with memorable choruses and riffs. That focus is further assisted by the fact that, except for the title and closing tracks, none of the songs run longer than three minutes. The lyrics are direct without sounding half-tossed. According to Revan, an interior architect when he isn’t pounding the skins, this was out of necessity.

“Our vocalist left us right before we went into production, leaving us to share in vocal duties,” Revan said. “Because we also have to play our instruments while singing live, this meant that we had to make the vocal lines as simple as they can be. They are simple but hopefully good enough.”

“Anak Haram Ibukota” (“Bastard Child of the Capital”) starts things off splendidly with descending guitar harmonies before lurching toward a drudging rhythm and a surprisingly sing-along chorus. Midway through, the song even manages to incorporate a few bars of bluesy guitar solo. It’s a great opener and sets a high standard, which some of the record’s other songs manage to transcend, though others falter.

The suitably-named “Angkasa Murka” (“Celestial Wrath”) blisters with lightning speed and gloriously awkward rhythms; going out after one magnificent sing-a-long chorus at a mere 1 minute, 58 seconds. The song feels like a welcome throwback to the days of old-school hardcore music, which combined the harshness of punk rock and the technical attack of mid-80s heavy metal.

The title track grinds with tribal-like drumming and instantly head-bangable riffs, before launching toward the record’s best verse in the form of chant-like vocals. A David Gilmour-esque guitar solo makes for a surprisingly natural sounding bridge, and adds to the record’s unconventional take on heavy metal.

It is by far the best song on the record, which would have benefited from more similarly perfect amalgamations between metal and punk rock crowd-baiting vocal lines. The song’s ominous lyrics capture the theme of desperation (but not depression) the album offers:

“I/ misty/ using foul language/ jarring,” sings Morgg abstractly, sounding menacing and mournful at once.

“Dilarang Berbisa” (roughly “Venomous Prohibited”) is another standout: a punk-ish heavy-metal number that begins with a pulsating bass-and-drum attack and ends with dueling shouts and growls.

In fact, it’s the vocalists’ growls that give each of the tracks their strong hooks. In the pulsating-though-unfortunately-titled “Good Times 4 Good Friend,” the singers urge listeners, “let’s party,” nicely contrasting with the track’s vicious nuance.

The closing track, “Singa Lapar” (“Hungry Lion”), ends the record on a blistering high note. Martial-like rhythms clash again with growling vocals, reminiscent of 1980s thrash metal acts.

At 14 tracks, however, the record’s last few songs begin to grate. It doesn’t help much that “Rajagnaruk” is also front-loaded, with lesser-formed tracks shuffled closely together. “N.A.D Kush” is heavy on time-changes but starts with dully conventional grindcore riffing. It gets better toward the end, when the bar-like sing-a-long chorus comes in, but overall would have been better served as an outtake.

“Ujung Tombak” (“Spear Edge”) and “99% THC 1% Skill” suffer from the same sense of banality; sounding far too emblematic of the grindcore genre. Both of the tracks come and leave without saying much except how much the band likes thumping beats.

Second-to-last track “S.K.I.P” covers a wider spectrum with its minor-key outro, but takes too long to get to that part with mundanely-sludgy verses.

The album’s production captures the band perfectly; refined but not stale, giving each song a sense of live-takes that is heard on fewer and fewer on local albums.

“This is definitely a more pronounced and thought-out album,” explains Revan.

“Rajagnaruk” is far from a perfect record, but it is still a great local heavy-metal album. The first few songs offer a glimpse of how far the band can go when they push themselves beyond the boundaries of mere brutality.