There’s no reason to like the Mystery Jets.

From southwest London, the band has chiseled into the profitable niche between the post-punk revival of Bloc Party, The Rapture, and Arctic Monkeys and the vague new wave stumbling about of Maxïmo Park and Franz Ferdinand, all while managing to avoid a point or personality.

For their second album, last spring’s Twenty One, Mystery Jets roped in the ultracool-but-swell Erol Alkan for production, which was a smart thing to do even if it could only do so much.

Except for a song called “Two Doors Down.”

On the surface, it’s everything arch and obvious about indie’s misuse of the ’80s. There are bored vocals and those cartoon keyboards you hear everywhere. White ties and horrible hair. And then, whoops. Out of nowhere.

It’s excellent.

Is it the chorus?

After such an ordinary start, the vocals, at least, shift onto a high rock, bright and desperate, while a melody like crystal twinkles away, rising and falling in odd-pop fashion. Erol Alkan’s blatant production makes me smile. It’s easy to like the way the song reminds you of Aztec Camera, Madness, and Haircut 100, and that, just when you’re about to give up on it, the whole thing blooms like it was being colored in by a closest romantic with crayons.

So now there’s a reason.

What’d they do that for?