If something awful does not happen to the New Pornographers soon, the Vancouver band just might exhaust all of the complimentary adjectives in the modern indie rock lexicon. Catchy, tuneful, infectiously cheerful even when they are not trying to be and weird in the best, most agreeable way possible, A.C. Newman and friends have risen to the top of the power pop ranks with nary an unflattering remark to be heard.
On the band's first two albums, 2000's Mass Romantic and 2003's follow up Electric Version, the ironically clean-worded Pornographers moved from quirky, incredibly hooky pop that jumped seamlessly between time signatures to slightly more straightforward guitar-heavy pop with, if possible, even larger hooks. Although upping the hook size once again could prove dangerous for the listener, the band wisely chose to take a different approach with Twin Cinema.
At its outset, Twin Cinema diverges from the ecstatic pulse of its predecessor with the squealing keyboard riff of the title track, which borrows the guitar tone of Electric Version but more closely matches the style of the up-tempo tracks from Mass Romantic. However, the song distances itself from the band's debut album a minute and a half in by dropping off into a graceful, reserved bridge that stands apart from any of the band's older material.
From there Twin Cinema continues to move further and further away from either of the Pornographers' past albums, often opting for a slightly more melancholy-though hopeful-sound over the joyful rapture that characterized the last two discs. \The Bones of an Idol"" might actually have been written on a pot of decaf and ""The Bleeding Heart Show"" builds from a near standstill (for the New Pornographers at least) into a choral finale that, according to Newman, cops the style of Zulu Isicathamiya music.
Though much of Twin Cinema is a departure for the band, plenty of its sugar-high old style does make an appearance. The Bowie-esque ""Jackie, Dressed in Cobras,"" the brain-child of Dan Bejar (also of Destroyer), bounces along with the best of anything from their back catalogue and ""Sing Me Spanish Techno"" turns an impossibly simple guitar line into one of the most winningly upbeat moments on the album.
Lyrically, Twin Cinema is not really any better or worse than the band's past efforts, drawing mostly from Newman's knack for catchy, clever rhymes and love of abstract subject matter.
Twin Cinema lacks a track which stands out as well as Romantic's ""Letters from an Occupant,"" or Electric's ""The Laws Have Changed."" However, a light piece like ""Occupant"" might have sounded out of place amongst Cinema's darker tracks.
Despite having no stand-out track, the sum of Twin Cinema's parts is a thing of wonder, and proves The New Pornographers worthy of their many kudos.
