You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who begrudges Death Cab for Cutie their successful pirouette from scruffy indie-pop dudes to platinum-selling major-label rock band with 2005’s “Plans.” They did their time in the indie trenches, buffed up their pop hooks on later albums for Barsuk, took a swing at the majors and somehow made it work when contemporaries the Decemberists sort of flailed as a mainstream rock act (which makes sense, as they’re pretty much Iron Butterfly as fronted by an adenoidal Dave Eggers at this point). Frontman Ben Gibbard is kind of a charisma vacuum, but the band does lots of tricky little things right: unexpectedly melodic bass lines, open spaces between the prickly guitars and a deft touch of atmosphere from producer-guitarist Chris Walla (whose neither-here-nor-there solo album proved he really is the band’s Lindsey Buckingham).

“Narrow Stairs” is out in May, but the first single, “I Will Possess Your Heart,” is making forays onto radio (and is streaming at their MySpace). It’s … really long. The whole first half of the song is an unremarkable bass lick surrounded by swirly synth pads and Floyd-ian processed guitar noodling. It’s a perfectly OK start because of Walla’s sure hand on the mixing board, but after the fourth minute it begins to feel like some kind of extended joke on the audience. This is the worst time in their career to begin getting antagonistic with their fans’ expectations, and while this stuff might fly live, I can’t imagine a worse choice for a leadoff single.

And it only gets worse when Gibbard finally makes an appearance at around the 4:40 mark. Anybody wondering whether his wimpster misogynistic streak on “Someday You Will Be Loved” was an aberration should start getting worried again. Gibbard has settled into an infuriatingly manipulative sensitivo posture lyrically, proposing that his love for his ladyfriend is “like a book elegantly bound, but in a language that you can’t read.” His solution? “You’ve got to spend some time with me … I will possess your heart.” It’s the lyrical equivalent of a sweaty hand on an inner thigh prompting an alarming glance toward one’s purse for a rape whistle.

The song just sort of dissolves after that, and it leaves a deeply unfinished aftertaste — it’s both underwritten and overplayed. But the bigger question it prompts is: Why has Ben Gibbard suddenly turned into Christian Slater’s character from the last 15 minutes of “Heathers”? He’s capable of writing genuinely sweet tunes, and even his poison pen odes like “Tiny Vessels” are deliciously withering, but stay grounded in his laser-sharp eye for detail. Whatever prompted this creepiness, let’s hope it doesn’t reflect on the rest of “Narrow Stairs.” Otherwise, we might have to upgrade to a tazer.

-August Brown