Everything That Ever Was, the long-awaited second endeavor by Tim Brickley and the Bleeding Hearts, is such an album.

Like the band’s 1995 release, Be Apart, but with 10 valuable years of experience behind it, Everything, released in July, pays tribute to 1960s and ’70s album-rock.

“Music from that era had a real progressive spirit to it,” Brickley says, sitting cross-legged on his studio floor in green shorts and white dress shirt, tails out, signature black shock of hair showing just a hint of gray.

“It was pop music, but it was also art, and it was literature. It was about exploration and equality, all these things that are so not in most corporate music right now. This album’s an attempt to find that spirit, and keep it going.”

Thus the essence of such artists as the Beatles and Elton John, Queen and David Bowie, Meatloaf and Bob Dylan color Brickley’s music throughout.

Lyrically, the album is a backward glance at the angst-ridden transition from innocence to experience.

“You try to make the right choices in life, but you don’t have the skills at first. It’s about learning, trying to get better,” he says.

But the album is also a statement about love — ideal, fraternal or lustful — in songs from the sweet, airy “There Is Only Love,” to the raw and direct “I’m In Need.” And, being rock and roll, the primary subject matter is girls, lots of ’em — girls you had, girls you couldn’t have and girls you’d like to have — with titles such as “You. Tonight,” or “Something In You,” or “I See You In Everything.”

But the lyrics are only part of what makes this project a delight. Foremost is its musicality. Besides the excellent performances of the musicians, the songs are neatly crafted, fastidiously arranged and exude a sort of primal joy.

“Reckless With Love,” the apt opener and most ambitious number, sneaks in with some floating slide guitar played by John Byrne and a breathy Brickley singing at the nadir of his range — something about a young guitarist and a girl from Mooresville. Then cymbals crash and guitars crunch and we’re off and running through this energetic, medium pop-rocker, the singer’s elastic voice teasing us forward. The vocal ensemble work is fat throughout and the varied sections are each more interesting than the last. And, there’s this simple, infectious, six-note hook that lingers long after the song ends.

“When I was a kid I just loved all sorts of wild, larger-than-life-sounding records, where you put it on and just go, whoa! So, ‘Reckless’ is a kind of homage to that. It’s kind of home-made arena rock.”

The most rewarding songs seem to develop organically from a real connection between words and music, as in “We Were High,” a moving tribute to a former best friend, in waltz-time.

Here Brickley’s piano helps set up a sort of rippling-brook on which his dramatic vocal, perhaps the best on the album, sails along in poignant reminiscence. The flowing triplet feel intensifies until momentary dark harmonies and choppy rhythms embody a feeling of regret in the lyrics. A middle-section cuts to present tensions between the friends, and musically the rippling-brook becomes a forbidding rapids. Coming out of the bridge, at the final phrase “lost in the infinite sky,” the pulse flat-lines and the music drifts under a sprinkling piano. A tasty double-guitar lead, à la Queen, by James Monaldi churns things up again for the final verse of a song which demonstrates Brickley’s ability to concoct a poignant tale with only a dash of narrative.

Of course, there’s also some good old overdrive-rock such as “Without You I’m Just Screwed,” a balls number from gate to finish-line, and one of many vehicles for Byrne’s lead guitar.

“USA Today” shifts back to the pensive in a haunting Sting-like ballad, which tells a story of paranoia, enhanced by tremolo guitars, piano runs, sound effects and other assorted dissonances.

“It’s about our culture of fear, using it to sell policy or to sell product,” Brickley says.

Though the lyrics verge on the mystical, the singer’s conviction somehow makes you believe. Perhaps it’s this utter conviction that gets Tim Brickley over.

Then there’s that quasi-British accent with which he bends certain words and phrases, a habit he attributes to all the trans-Atlantic rock he ingested as a teen.

“It’s ingrained bad behavior that’s become natural,” he says, comparing it to Mick Jagger’s Southern drawl. “It’s not that Mick’s pretending, it’s just the records he got off on.”

The core musicians on Everything, an album with multiple cameo appearances, are John Byrne and James Monaldi, guitars; Wade Parish, drums; Mark Kocher, bass; Ben Wah Salami, background vocals; and, of course, Brickley, who produced and engineered the album and played piano, Wurlitzer electric piano, guitars and other things various and sundry.

He also did most of the songwriting, penning nine alone, and three with partner David Rheins. A cover of “I Wish I Was Your Mother,” by Ian Hunter, completes this baker’s dozen, which times out at 57 minutes.

Sound Guru Paul Mahern did the final mix, at Hit City.

In sum, there’s much to like on this rich and varied album, the making of which saw Brickley move from his 30s into his 40s.

“I’m definitely a late bloomer. For Everything to occur, it took this amount of time. It could have been done quicker, I imagine. But it took a while to learn how to build the studio, play all the instruments, sing and arrange and how to write songs, and how to have long-term relationships with musicians.” He pauses, then adds, “I figure, Henry Miller didn’t publish until he was in his 40s, so there’s always hope.”