Pitchfork

As far as politicking goes, New Zealand-based The Shocking Pinks have got their act together. Rather than waging an ill-fated battle to entice the ever-jaded indie masses with quixotic idiosyncrasy, they've studied the musical zeitgeist, and at first glance, appear to roll with it. Dance the Dance Electric, the group's debut full-length, would blend inconspicuously into the emergent dancepunk section of any hipper-than-thou record store-- that is, until an unsuspecting store clerk actually bothered to spin the disc, whereupon it would be revealed as a sophisticated collection of casual genre-hoppers and tender love songs that far outshines most of the bilge spawned from James Murphy's Chernobyl-like fallout.

Dance the Dance Electric is simultaneously one of the most tragically hip and irreverently unaffiliated records of the year, cavorting from unabashed disco revivalism to scuzzed-out new-wave to reggae-tinged psychedelia in a mottled kaleidoscope of brazen idealism. While aesthetically, all indications are of something closely related to the nascent discopunk phenomenon, The Shocking Pinks are only tangentially interested in getting down. In fact, the complexity of their ambitions rivals vastly more established groups, and the youthful intensity with which they attack each objective is a constant boon.

At first, the album abides its come-ons: "Lovehate" is instrumental discopunk at its purest, enduring for six minutes on a redundant bassline, slap-happy bongo playing and an erratically soloing guitar. While certainly not a vast departure from the cliches being propagated by present-day death-disco revivalists, the song is endearingly sloppy in contrast with the razor-sharp instrumentalism of bands like !!! and Out Hud. That it's one of Dance the Dance Electric's weaker tracks is a testament to the potency and stylistic diversity of the band's songcraft.

Any intimations "Lovehate" makes at inane trend appeasement are quickly dispelled as the ethereal guitar peals of "Peaceout" stagger into focus and Nick Harte delivers the album's first vocals. With all the pieces in place, the song hovers briefly at a blissful stasis, but rather than stagnate in a comfortable environment, the band vary things with a pensive coda section. "Peaceout", which finds more similarities in Built to Spill than "Beat Connection", proves The Shocking Pinks not merely fluff imitators, but truly competent songwriters. That revelation is amply reinforced by the subsequent track, "It's Hard to Breathe", which eviscerates Joy Division and The Smiths, and features the simplistic yet devastatingly emotive chorus lyric, "This is a love letter/ Straight from my ha-ha-heart."

From there, the album dives back into the rugged, tentatively groove-minded "Every", and for two minutes, Dance the Dance Electric actually lives up to its misleading title. Then, suddenly but smoothly, the song metamorphoses into a dream-pop vamp, retaining nothing but a vague variation of its central riff. Conveniently reflective of the album as a whole, "Every" channels a panoply of influences, but uncannily emerges with a singular voice. Its 6\xBD wayward minutes easily make for Dance Electric's most scatterbrained track, but also one of its catchiest.

Such is the paradox that lies at the heart of this record, and what makes The Shocking Pinks altogether so exciting. Songs like the Dekker-smitten "Affection" and the schlock-funk "In the Labyrinth" lie two seconds away and a world apart-- it shouldn't work, but most of the time it does. Of course, this eager eclecticism makes for a somewhat inconsistent final package, but any transgressions are forgiven for the indefatigable verve of the album. In- or out-of-context, these are undeniably strong songs from a group of musicians who understand the popular climate well enough to maneuver it, to a staggering effect.