At one point during the making of "Angels of Destruction," Dave Bielanko imagined a triple album opus with as many as 33 songs. Then, in the cold light of day, he came to his senses and delivered the tighter, 11-song collection that hit the streets last week.

The point is, it was that productive a year for Marah, the Brooklyn band that originated in Philadelphia in 1998. Bielanko says it's partly a matter of him paying more attention to his songs than his need for alcohol.

"It meant a lot more writing," says Bielanko, sounding like his comment about having 11 cappuccinos wasn't a joke. "They write books about this. All of a sudden, you shift from alcoholia to workaholia. I made that deal with myself, like, if I'm going to do this, I need you to step up, and we're going to be the band. There was that underlying thing, but then at the end of the day, at 5 in the morning in front of the mixing board, it's kind of just me left. When you feel like you're not [messed] up, you feel like you can do no wrong."

Marah, which is on its seventh studio record (not counting that really good Christmas collection in 2005), has gained a following for its rowdy take on roots-rock with a punk sensibility. The band has at least three high-profile fans in Steve Earle, who originally signed the band to his label in 2000; Bruce Springsteen, who appeared on the third record, "Float Away"; and Stephen King, who, in Entertainment Weekly, deemed "If You Didn't Laugh, You'd Cry" the best record of 2005 and Marah "the best rock band in America that nobody knows."

Obviously, part of the appeal for folks such as Springsteen, King and rock fans in general is that Marah wears its influences proudly. On "Angels of Destruction," you can sense a Beatles vibe to "Jesus in the Temple," Bielanko channeling Elvis Costello channeling Dylan on the rollicking "Wild West Love Song," and the Boss on "Santos De Madera."

"Yeah, and it's so often confused," he says, "like I'm writing a Lou Reed song on 'Angels on a Passing Train' and it gets interpreted as Springsteen. I basically think it's like, The Clash is a great band and the Rolling Stones are a great band, and other bands aren't great bands. The influences that go back through music, those are real and if you don't address them, it's like, 'What's the point?' We travel the world and if we're playing our music in England or Helsinki or wherever, I need to be able to know that we're playing American music that's not rooted in something stupid, that actually has ties to back to the past."

"Angels of Destruction" ties into the past with plenty of rock 'n' roll clatter and a wall of sound that isn't overly fussy or polished. It came from a lot of live playing in the studio.

"We try to just let the music be a natural extension of what's going on and not give ourselves the opportunity to slave over it," Bielanko says. "There's no pretension about making a masterpiece. We just think the world's a better place -- a little better place -- with our band in it. We went through a lot of [stuff] and wrote a lot about good and evil and right and wrong, and that became this album and a springboard for a lot to follow."

Bielanko says a lot more music from his sober writing spree will see the light throughout the year. He hopes it strikes a chord with Marah's fans, but he seems to be getting an inner buzz from it, whether it's popular or not.

"I always dreamed of being in a cult band," he says. "Our band has an emotional effect on some people, and it has an intimacy and an immediacy. People feel like they know you. Tracks six, seven and eight on our records are scrutinized. I feel like we offer something righteous and cool. In our live gigs it's a chance to look at six weird people that can deliver something and rock it to the back of the nightclub wall. That's a cool thing, and it doesn't happen much, and we're not doing it for the wrong reasons or to be famous.

"At this point, it's like I don't give a [damn] if we sell five records. I'm in a band and we travel around the world and play music. And I'm in it with my brother, and that bond is huge. It amounts to some sort of soulfulness, and you morph that soulfulness into whatever you want. Everyone in our band sees it and knows it's there and is trying to protect it at all costs."