The Decemberists make arena rock for people who might have role-playing games stashed away in the closet. Frontman Colin Meloy hasn’t met a four- and five-syllable word he can’t rhyme to another four- or five-syllable word as he sings 21st century narrative folk songs with an edgy indie-rock undercurrent. His Portland band matches his picaresque lyrical aspirations with a baroque sort of music — featuring accordions, cellos, Wurlitzers, bouzoukis and hurdy-gurdies — that sometimes suggests sea chanteys, other times old English murder ballads. It would all sound a little precious were it not for the delivery, which has enough punky thrust to sell it to music venues rather than coffee shops. Much ado was made of the band’s jump from an independent label to a major, but The Crane Wife, released in 2006, found the Decemberists being daring but unchanged in their approach. The Hazards of Love boasts a few moments of rock bombast without freezing out the band’s singular approach to making music.