Is it possible to have too many ideas? Until now it seemed as if Hot Chip were weighed down by a surfeit of cleverness. Back in 2006, the kind-hearted synth-pop of their Mercury-nominated second album The Warning suggested they might develop into a clockwork Kraftwerk, the south London quintet more interested in retaining their humanity in the face of technology than achieving the robotic efficiency of their German forebears. They were making defiantly electronic-sounding music whose concerns were soulful. And I Was a Boy from School was a dreamy dance tune about the passing of youth while even the more overtly automated Over and Over had its cuddly side, urging the listener to get on down "like a monkey with a miniature symbol".

So there were humour and tunes alongside the obvious intelligence, all of it tricky to keep under control judging by 2008's wayward Made in the Dark, which saw the different facets of the band's personality in messy competition with each other, the winner being their slightly off-putting, pointy headed aspect. However, towards the end of that year they re-recorded several tracks for an EP with Robert Wyatt, the veteran singer who in recent years has become a touchstone for younger artists eager to walk a distinct path without wandering into the rough.

Something magical may well have rubbed off, as One Life Stand not only sees them back on track, it's also their best work, paring down those past excesses and unifying them into an extraordinarily lovely whole. Alley Cats is a perfect balance of the musical, lyrical and intellectual playfulness that has come to define them. A song about loss, it juxtaposes strange, melancholy imagery – people tucked in bed are "planted like crocuses" – and, when all three of the band's vocalists arrive at the line "there's no pain I don't know", convincing heartache.

Underpinning everything is the spluttering machine energy at the heart of vintage dance music. The ghosts of New Order and Visage stalk Thieves in the Night. An existential crisis you can whistle, it ponders the elusive nature of happiness with lyrics like "a want is a lack but also desire". Before the anthemic closer Take It In rises towards its folky chorus, it clanks and squelches like an early Warp Records release, reeking of dry ice, lasers and dancing before the police arrive to spoil the party.

Is it possible to have too many ideas? Not if you know what to do with them.