Much ink was spilled -- add a little more now -- because the initial four-song version of Passion Pit's unabashedly optimistic 2008 debut EP was made as a present for the girlfriend of its front man, Michael Angelakos. If there was an indie-rock Us Weekly, a picture of the happy couple would have appeared on the love-lives page, with a thumbs-up and a smiley face next to it. No more. A few weeks ago Angelakos told ABC News that the relationship was kaput. 'We're still very good friends,' he insisted. It was a high-water mark of indie-rock tabloidism -- or of major-network hipster-slumming. But this knowledge adds little meaning to 'Manners' (Frenchkiss), Passion Pit's first full-length album, released last month, or to the band's performance at Bowery Ballroom on Friday night. The show, like the record, suggested that even though Angelakos' mood had morphed, his skill set and that of his band had not. The lyrics are different: Gone are the dreamy, un-self-conscious proclamations of affection from the EP (which was reissued with additional tracks), replaced with vividly dark broodings, thick with doubt and fear. But the naive yelp is the same. The shameless use of disco and electro-pop triggers are the same. The high-gloss sheen is the same. If Angelakos is hurting, he'd rather not show it. You can't hide the truth, though. Passion Pit is working with the same palette -- the happy and sad songs sound alike -- and yet 'Manners' largely lacks the life of this band's first songs. There are only nominal variations on a theme. 'The Reeling,' with its hiccupped synth opening giving way to blissful disco, is the album's highlight and made for an electric encore here. 'Moth's Wings' has some of the vocal and narrative tension of TV on the Radio, and was the night's lone moment of contemplation. The members of Passion Pit -- Angelakos, Ian Hultquist on keyboards and guitar, Ayad Al Adhamy on keyboards, Jeff Apruzzese playing bass and Nate Donmoyer behind the drums -- were arranged onstage amid a maze of synthesizers. It was a stymieing setup; even when the band was sonically flamboyant, it was visually dull. That was no obstacle to the crowd. On the single 'Sleepyhead' most of the audience members pumped their fists in the air; a few pounded the walls. On 'Little Secrets' Adhamy and Hultquist led the crowd in an enthusiastic chant. (On the album these vocals are provided by the chorus from Public School 22 on Staten Island.) And there were unexpected jolts of color. On 'Folds in Your Hands,' Adhamy manually thumped out a beat on a drum machine, and on 'I've Got Your Number,' Apruzzese tore off a whimsical bass lick that was a rebuke to Angelakos' oddly uncommitted singing. That song was one of only two from the original version of the EP that the band played and was easily the night's weakest. Maybe Angelakos just can't wear that happy face anymore. The rest of the time, masking misery under shimmer, he appeared, if not potent, at least at home. 