It’s probably fair to say that the seeds of complacency have been there from the very beginning for Marco Benevento. Well, maybe not the very beginning. His debut recording as a solo artist, the triple-disc Live at Tonic, was primarily a rousing, rollicking showcase for his on-stage skills as an improviser, his natural knack for composition, and his astonishing way with a piano. From there, he headed to the studio, a truckload of gizmos and gadgets in tow; the resulting LP, Invisible Baby, was a delirious delight, Benevento sounding both like a mad scientist and a child at play. Yes, he loved his electronics, but on that album the toys seemed new to him, his use of them streaked with mischief — and always in service of the songs.

From there, the toys have become increasingly front-and-center. Invisible Baby’s follow-up, Me Not Me, was marked by less manic, impulsive energy, but its maturation was nevertheless commendable. Now comes Between the Needles and Nightfall, and the point at which Benevento’s sonic tinkering finally begins to sound a bit stagnant. It is, for all intents and purposes, a direct sequel to the album that came before it, which was itself a linear progression from Invisible Baby. Only this time, the post-Largo sound effects feel even more prominent — and even more forced — and the sense of gleeful fun that made the first two records such irresistible romps is largely absent here.

Which isn’t to say that this is a bad album at all; More Benevento is always good Benevento. But where Invisible Baby was inspired, and Me Not Me winsomely mature, this one simply feels study, with no particularly weak moments but no particularly strong ones, either. Benevento is simply content to play with his toys. Indeed, the droning opener “Greenpoint” feels like little more than an excuse to play with reverb and distortion techniques; much better is the next song, “Between the Needles,” which builds from a soulful piano refrain into a crescendo where the electronics enhance the composition’s emotional climax.

Most everything else falls somewhere between, with the biggest difference from previous albums being an increased emphasis on soundscapes and atmospherics, and a predominance of sweeping, cathartic high points; indeed, it’s not for nothing that the album’s press material references Arcade Fire, an obvious point of departure for these towering crescendos. These songs are less about a sense of play and more about a sense of gravitas, and if there’s anything to distinguish this from previous Benevento LPs, its this album’s solemnity. Still, it’s worth noting that the best moments here are the ones where it sounds like the composer is simply allowing himself to be carried away with the music’s own inherent sense of adventure and discovery — as on the standout track “Music is Still Secret,” an agreeably old-timey number that has in spades the heart and creative fire that’s in relatively short supply elsewhere.