Someone I presume to be famous once said, “There is a time and a place for everything.” For White Rabbits, that time was 2007 and the place was Brooklyn. They released their critically acclaimed debut album, Fort Nightly – a rollicking record that would have been a perfect soundtrack to any debauchery-filled poker night or trip to Vegas. From the darkly upbeat “Kid on My Shoulders” to the tropical, French Kicks-esque “Tourist Trap,” Fort Nightly was one big party, and everyone was invited.

Of course, life can’t always be one big party. Everyone has to grow up sometime. But for White Rabbits, getting older isn’t synonymous with becoming boring. Their second album, It’s Frightening, is just the opposite of boring. It’s a more mature and comprehensive album, with all the signs of more experienced musicians and songwriters as well as the production of Spoon lead singer Britt Daniel. The party aspect is still there, but it’s more refined, more toned-down and less rambunctious.

Something that distinctly sets It’s Frightening apart from its 2007 predecessor is the prevalence of slower, piano-heavy songs. Their presence ultimately leaves the album feeling bleaker and more world-weary — less like a wide-eyed kid who lived for the party scene and more like an adult who’s seen it all. There’s a sense of wisdom gained and naivety lost that makes this record all the more enchanting and classic.

Album opener “Percussion Gun” sounds more like a Radiohead B-side than it does cabaret music, with its melancholic guitars and piano playing against a rolling drum beat.

“Lionesse” is almost haunting in its build-up of instruments and feelings. It sounds like a composition straight out of a Hitchcock film.

An acoustic gem, “The Company I Keep” is a charming track that alludes to a much softer, simpler side of White Rabbits.

“Leave it at the Door” is the barest and perhaps most beautiful song on the album, with only piano and gentle melodic sounds as the backdrop against somber vocals.

“Right Where They Left” and “The Lady Vanishes” hint at the band’s earlier days of merrymaking and all-night revelry, but are stripped-down, reeled-in versions of them.

Essentially, it boils down to this: if Fort Nightly was shag carpeting — a lot of fun but a novelty at best –then It’s Frightening is hardwood — a little less flashy, showy and exciting, but far more sophisticated, and guaranteed to last beyond the times.