Transient Random Noise Bursts With Announcements

On Stereolab's first proper American full-length, the group skillfully dissects past musical genres and recombines them in their own Dr. Moreau-like sonic laboratory-garage. The recording is among Stereolab's least labored, most groove-oriented efforts. There are experiments like the French-pop-flavored "Pack Yr Romantic Mind," but it's mostly a lovely, loud, decadent '90s rock record. The song titles reference obscure equipment, the sounds are made with arcane instruments, the repetitive guitar work is directly lifted from Michael Rother, and the cover image pledges devotion to vinyl (the musical obscurantist's medium of choice), but somehow the band never comes off as snobbish. Stereolab's music would not only spawn dozens of imitators, but the very stuff they drew inspiration from (Esquivel, Can, Moondog, Os Mutantes) was suddenly the starting point for any self-respecting hipster's record collection. More important, it totally rocks ("Our Trinitone Blast") while beaming sunny vibes ("Jenny Ondioline"). --Mike McGonigal