Pitchfork

After Brainiac's untimely demise, few in the indie realm were expecting much of a comeback from any of its members-- particularly a latecomer like replacement guitarist John Schmersal. And initially, suspicions seemed confirmed by a record he issued on the short-lived SeeThru Broadcasting label under the alias John Stuart Mill, an uneven folk record that couldn't decide whether it wanted to win over the masses or languish forever in used-bin obscurity. But as most music fans agree, it takes more than one talent to make a truly transcendent band, and with the release of Enon's 2000 debut, Believo!, John Schmersal proved himself that missing link.

Believo! proved an incredibly solid, diverse, and most notably, original offering, with its punchdrunk serpentine melodies and Skeleton Key percussionists Steve Calhoon and Rick Lee's junkyard assemblage providing the record's sturdy core. With critical acclaim and moderate indie sales on their side, things were looking up for Enon. That's when Schmersal hit another unexpected roadblock: his entire rhythmic section returned to their former band to record a second full-length-- no less than five years after their first tanked for Capitol Records. Worst decision they ever made? Probably, because John Schmersal was determined. After having death come between him and success, it had to seem like only a minor setback.

Enon quickly bounced back. Picking up singer/bassist/keyboardist Toko Yasuda (late of Blonde Redhead and The Lapse) and drummer Matt Schulz, the band re-emerged fully formed as an outfit more interested in bumping nasties than creeping out audiences with cyborg-rock dirges. Amidst fan concerns that losing half its members would irrevocably derail Enon's plotted course, High Society again surprised everyone. Here, they patented-- and maybe perfected-- their beat-happy dance-pop/rock hybrid, and immediately took their rightful seats at the head table of the rocker class of 2002. How do you follow that up?

No, seriously, Schmersal needs an answer, like, now.

Too late: he decided without you. The choice? An odd one: milking the stylistically varied but thematically consistent formula of High Society, quite possibly on autopilot. Bafflingly sequenced, Hocus Pocus opens rather flatly with the downtempo trip-pop of the Toko-led "Shave", but then revs up with "The Power of Yawning", a Kinksian guitar-pop romp which collapses into a bizarro, almost Bowie-esque bridge spotlighting a stately Schmersal warble. What's more, the record confounds like this all the way through, with many of its most compelling tracks dumped off near the end. A shame, since several of these-- including the moody desperation of the serrated art-punk number "Starcastic" (also the record's first single) and the supremely rarefied strut of "Monsoon"-- would stand out beautifully even amongst High Society's strongest tracks, but may never be discovered by some impatient listeners.

Credit is due for the album's centerpiece and most innovative cut, "Daughter in the House of Fools". A stutter-step Jeep anthem blasting Toko's sing-songy vox and bass-quaking beats, the track belches forth an array of blurts, beeps, and bells, with rhythmic bobs and weaves that indicate that Rick Lee's junkyard percussion-- recreated here via MIDI triggering-- remains at least a psychic influence. The album's most immediate highlights, though, are those that feature Schmersal and Yasuda's dueling male/female vocals ("Starcastic", "Murder Sounds", and the surprisingly sweet lilt of "Candy"), an underused technique in any genre, let alone Enon's budget-futurist danceclub pop.

If you can make it past the album's frustrating layout (I've found liberal use of the 'skip' button to come in handy for this), Hocus Pocus proves a fine collection of songs by pretty much anyone's standards. Not so much a step backwards as a failure to leap fully ahead, this may not be exactly what fans were expecting, but if we're going by Schmersal's track record, it's not nearly the last straw.