Thanks to proliferation of its use via Internet slang, the word “epic” appears to have lost all meaning. It gets used anywhere, anytime, for anything, whether or not the object in question deserves such a grandiose title. Because of this misuse, “epic” has become a word best avoided. But, oddly, it is the only adequate way to describe the sprawling opus that is Muse’s The Resistance.

Clocking in at around 57 minutes for only 11 songs, The Resistance doesn’t contain a single tune shorter than 3:56. Every song, from the spacey opening of “Uprising” to the soft strings and piano of the closing “Exogenesis” trilogy, is massive. To put it simply — this is music for the home theater system, not the car stereo. On the album, the members of Muse sound as though they were born at an arena rock concert, and that moment dictated every moment of their lives since.

At times haunting and thought-provoking, The Resistance is all-around beautiful and, let’s face it, downright sexy. It’s an album people can not only shake their ass to but also ponder pseudo-philsophically.

And it all begins with “Uprising,” a song that picks right up where the band left off with space-cowboy rocker “Knights of Cydonia” on Black Holes and Revalations. Perhaps the most overtly political song on The Resistance, “Uprising” is also one of its best. With lyrics about mind control, paranoia, and revolution — all set to a spacey, groovy track that wouldn’t be out of place in a dance hall — the song kicks off an album full of fight and rhythm, the vast majority of which is, frankly, epic.

Epic can get boring, though. Many of the songs on The Resistance contain breakdowns in the middle that would mark the end of common pop-rock numbers. But Muse’s tunes continue, and continue, and continue. “United States of Eurasia” is the most egregious example of this (but is without a doubt an otherwise great track), and it seems to end with a boisterous and consuming breakdown that would make Freddy Mercury jealous, until the final note parlays itself into more than two minutes of useless piano tinkering. Most of the songs end beautifully, but the endings still feel like little more than filler — on an album on which such fare simply isn’t required.

There is some lyrical confusion as well. Vocalist Matthew Bellamy sings in platitudes on most of the album. Sometimes, this makes it hard to tell if he’s encouraging revolution or bitching about his date’s parents because they wouldn’t let her leave the house. Perhaps this is a genius gender ploy, allowing the boys to take up their swords and begin the fight while the girls scheme to break curfew (both with The Resistance playing in the background).

Whether this is the case or otherwise, Bellamy’s soaring yet charming vocal work makes it not matter. Couple the vocals with his skillful guitar riffs and piano playing, as well as the succulent rhythm provided by bassist Christopher Wolstenholme and drummer Dominic Howard, and Muse never fails to deliver musically on this album, even if it drags at times.

In a day and age where “epic” can be used to describe even the most mundane of music, events, and people, The Resistance proves itself to be one of the few things truly deserving of the title.