Broadcast
The Noise Made by People
Tommy Boy/Warp (U.K.)

It took more than three years following the release of its first single, but Birmingham, England's Broadcast has finally made an album.

And following in the tradition of a slew of largely unexposed bands (Pram, Novak, Plone and Avrocar, to name a few) to come out of the industrial capital of the Midlands, Broadcast packs an atmospheric, otherworldly sound.

Of the Birmingham groups to grab indie hipsters' attention over the past few years, Broadcast are the most "pop," and therefore will probably garner the most attention for a scene long carried on the backs of the less commercially successful, creepier Pram. But Broadcast steals a few pages from its older brother, blending female vocals, '60s analog keyboards, drums, bass, guitar and a large toybox of odd percussion instruments.

Broadcast stakes out its own territory, though, with bass-and-percussion-driven doses of retro '60s cool. While both of these groups have a distinct underwater sound, Pram writes the kind of music one might hear if sitting in a plush Hell lounge. The alternate reality created within the music of Broadcast, on the other hand, is merely a fog-shrouded, dimly lit version of our own. A fundamental optimism prevails, created largely due to the efforts of vocalist Trish Keenan.

With sweetly sung lyrics like, "The writing for pleasure you wouldn't let me read/ The things you miss out when you try to mislead/ You said you wrote a page about me/ in your diary" (from "Papercuts"), Keenan casts herself as the brainy, sweater-and-glasses wearing, bouffant-sporting beauty in the library (a persona first created on the band's early single, "The Book Lovers"). Her voice creates a sultry, sensual allure, which is enhanced by the band's slinky, cinematic instrumentation. Think John Barry or Ennio Morricone, and you've got the idea.

The Noise Made by People starts off a little bit rockily — the most unremarkable songs are the first two — but really picks up around "Come on Let's Go," the fourth song and third single from the album, which recalls the poppiness of "The Book Lovers," a song featured in Austin Powers.

From there, the album takes off. The first single, "Echo's Answer," is a musical paean to foggy nights in a coastal village. Devoid of drums or percussion, its rhythm is forged by church-bell-soundalike synths. A little minimalism goes a long way.

"Look Outside," with its spaghetti Western guitar and early Stereolabby rhythm guitar, is perhaps the album's finest moment. A duet of fluttering and reverbed aquatic keys, along with Keenan's dreamy voice show the band mixing genres as seamlessly as any of its peers.

The 12-track album closes with "Dead the Long Year," a noirish instrumental so layered it's practically a movie in its own right. Here we get to find out what the group sounds like with Keenan's voice stripped away, and the results are glorious. An eerie synth dances with reverb-heavy guitar, while a simplistic, cool bass line keeps time with a snare. If The Little Man From Another Place in David Lynch's "Twin Peaks" took the train to work in the morning, this is what might have been playing on his Walkman.

— Eric Wittmershaus (ericw at flakmag dot com)