Stephan Jenkins writes songs about the things college kids care about: sex (lots of sex), menstrual and lunar cycles, social awkwardness and mixing alcohol with Vicodin. He also spells his name with a pretentious “a” instead of the standard “e.” But I love him anyway.

I love him mostly for his poetic lyrics. He writes verses like a 14th-century sultan acquires his harem: enthusiastically and with an undeniable hint of conceit, a knowing Mona Lisa half-smile. But who else in rock today is willing to write lines like “The sky, it was gold, it was rose, I was taking sips of it through my nose,” or “You talk real soft and kiss me on the cheek, and like a jazz DJ you talk me into sleep?” Who else could so aptly describe an orgasm as “1,000 Julys?”

Only Stephan Jenkins, the guitarist / writer / producer / front-man of Third Eye Blind. The band’s self-titled 1997 debut sold over six million copies; with five radio singles including “Semi-Charmed Life” — it was the kind of album that you could set on play and listen to straight through without fuming at the irksome tracks that infest every other record.

The same, alas, cannot be said about “Out of the Vein,” the group’s newest release. It suffers from a “Matrix Reloaded” complex, the weighty burden of living up to an original so fresh and stunning that it becomes mythic (never mind 3EB’s sophomore release, “Blue,” which went double platinum and held as true as possible to the first album’s originality).

Jenkins comes through with the lyricism of the aggressive poet warrior persona he’s established in the past, oozing lines like “Palm-reader’s breath smells of brandy and cigarettes” in his mellifluous voice. He also lets me down when he sings, “Can we try and take the high road?” on “Crystal Baller.” A cliché? Why have you forsaken me, oh Stephan?

Whereas the group’s other albums featured a mix of tempos, this one leans more heavily to the swift electric rock variety, the kind of music that you blare in a car with open windows on the way to the beach on a heavenly summer day. Nonetheless, some of the albums best songs are the mellower ones, like “Misfits,” a tribute to the kids that everyone else aims their gooey spit wads towards.

The songs are less catchy and poppy than on previous albums; as a result, they are more of an acquired taste. But, unlike mom’s assertions about brussels sprouts and other edible greens (no, not those kind of greens), this taste is worth acquiring. There’s a greater sense of experimentation, like the Calypso-esque beat on “Wake for Young Souls” (which works admirably well) or the silver-voiced female background singer on “Self Righteous.” This innovative spirit, I guess, is the group tapping into a creative vein that remained undiscovered until now. The songs are what come “Out of the Vein.”

Some of them work, and some of them don’t. Die-hard 3EB fans won’t be wasting their 12 bucks (come on, we know the money came from being one of those paid research guinea pigs anyway), but newcomers might want to try a more accessible album first. If they do, I’m sure Jenkins’ sultry lyrics will get them sooner or later.