"We're not an Arcade Fire, but we're also not some tiny band toiling away in obscurity," says Luke Lalonde, frontman for Canadian indie-rock outfit Born Ruffians. The quartet's fourth LP, RUFF, documents that odd identity crisis: At what point does "chasing a dream" become a career? And is there a satisfying resolution to that eternal craving?

These are heady themes, undercut with biting satire and explosive, exploratory grooves. Throughout, Lalonde tells his critics to fuck off (the jangly "(Eat Shit) We Did It"); reflects on the teenage angst that launched the band (the celebratory surge of "We Made It") and apologizes to his fans in a disillusioned haze (stormy epic "Shade to Shade").

With the new album out October 2nd, MySpace chatted with Lalonde about the lyrical themes of RUFF, his band's resolve and why Kanye West's "asshole" personality is sort of admirable. 

A lot of the songs on the new album seem to be more personal and emotional, as if you're venting a lot of the feelings you've bottled up over the years. Were you trying to be more direct?  

This record is definitely reflecting on my identity as a musician, my identity as the singer of Born Ruffians, and my relationship with that person – and with the audience. The record is really a lot about that: my voice, the audience's voice and the many iterations of that theme. 

Half of my life, since I was 15, has been the band. That identity can really fuck with you sometimes. It's the struggle that a lot of people have with low-level fame…It's about what that's like – and trying to keep that identifiable on a broader scale and not get too specific, like, "I'm whining about being a singer in a band." More about, "Life is like this, and this is why everybody feels this way."

I'm fascinated by "We Made It" and the ambiguity of the lyrics. Obviously you're referencing the band signing their deal, making some buzz, then borderline burning out. The chorus – "We’ve got the rest of our lives / This is the first day of it / Let’s high five" — has a kind of naive quality, but you deliver it with a snarky, satirical edge.

That's exactly what I was trying to do. The chorus is supposed to have a bit of satire and wink to it. It's all supposed to be a bit intentionally cheesy, but at the same time that's the way I and a lot of people feel. Maybe I'm singing to my generation or something. I think a lot of people in my age group can identify with that – you feel like you've been promised this thing, and you never really feel you're achieving it. Maybe you've been told you're reaching this other level – "I'm 25, 30, whatever, and I'm supposed to feel this way, but it doesn't feel the way I thought I would feel." But you keep telling yourself, "I'll get there. I'll make something of myself. I'll achieve these goals and feel this way."

It's another version of that same thesis of relating my experience in this band – you're always feeling you're chasing something down and you're going to make it there, but you never really make it. But that's the meaning of life, I guess. For me, when I'm slipping into sadness, a lot of times I find happiness by faking it until I get there. Literally smile. Fake something good until you make it. It does work. If you're having a shitty day – for me, having a shitty night on-stage – I can turn it around. It's all perception. You can decide not to have that shitty time. You're doing it to yourself. It's something I think about a lot.

The closer, "Shade to Shade," directly references that feeling: having a shitty show and feeling emotionally detached from the audience.

Exactly. That was the first song I wrote into that theme, and it became the blueprint for the record. But it's also the furthest I wanted to go with a song about me literally singing to the audience – "I forgot to say that I loved you all." I do feel that, but I have a lot of nights where I don't express that or show it. The lyrics are coming from this last mini-tour we did of the States, where I had a bit of a down time. Touring for me is a lot of up and down, and I was writing about these mood swings, basically. 

On both that song and "& On & On & On," you talk about how people like the idea of "freaks." Where does that idea come from for you? Do you feel like a freak?  

I think, for a lot of musicians and artists, their cache is in their “outsider”ness and their "other"ness, and the way that's sold to an audience. I identify with that fucked-up version of John Lennon singing about his mother, his raw emotion. I think it's just realizing that's almost part of the responsibility that I have, exploring those extreme emotions and relate them at times when I don't want to do that. Like, "Shit, I just want to be normal and happy and settle and go to Ikea, but that's going to kill my art!"

I was listening to the radio the other day, and it was this singer-songwriter who just had a kid, and the whole record was about being a suburban dad. I was like, "Fuck! Do we need that blandness in music?" Then again, "Happy," that Pharrell song, is probably the biggest song of 2014. Is that about anything other than being happy? I don't think so. 

There's a celebratory, resilient angst on this album – especially on songs like "Eat Shit." Are you flipping that bird to your naysayers?

Totally. It comes from that kind of emotion, which is definitely a mixture of critical response or just people around you. We've gone through a lot of stuff in the past few years: We switched managers; [drummer] Steve [Hamelin] left the band. That is a very universal emotion – feeling like the world really is not on your side. And it isn't. You have to do it yourself. You feel like you want to give everybody the finger, like, "Fuck you, I did it!" It's also meant to play out as the narrator is a bit of a fool – giving everybody the finger is a bit ridiculous. Like, "Everybody eat shit!" That's not really the way the world works.

You guys are at your fourth album, which is a pretty big accomplishment. Do you feel like you've "made it" in a sense – does this finally feel like your career?

That's, in a way, what the record is about: the oscillation between those things. Waking up one day and being like, "Man, life's really good. I have a lot to be happy about. I get to make music for a living." And other days, you go, "Ah, man, look at what those guys have! We need to work harder and write more of a radio song and get more money." Looking at all the places you could go instead of how good it is where you are.

I'm simultaneously both. I'm definitely happy. But there are times where I'm like, "Shit, why aren't we making more money? Why aren't we playing these TV things?" But all that's tied up in ambition, and that's healthy. If you don't have those goals or the desire to be bigger and better, you aren't going to [achieve them]. That's why Kanye West is such an asshole to everybody –because he's still unhappy, even though he's literally as successful as he can be. He's still like, "I don't have what I deserve." He always has something to focus on, like he wasn't nominated for enough MTV awards; he didn't get the right reaction at this show. You know he's always complaining, and that's what keeps him going really – you kind of need that in a way.