French Kicks: The Trial Of The Century

It's a small but significant victory that French Kicks' second album, The Trial Of The Century, doesn't sound like any band in particular. The record bears traces of The Cure, Joy Division, Aztec Camera, and about two dozen forgotten British post-punk acts. But no one sound dominates, and The Trial Of The Century is neither a quirky nostalgia piece, like a lot of new rock, nor an unimaginative Spoon copy like French Kicks' debut disc, One Time Bells.

Instead, the New York new-wavers have begun to absorb inspiration more deeply, pushing past the surface appeal of danceable rhythms and jagged guitars to find a beating, bleeding heart. A softer, synth-massaged sound and a seductive cover image—the subtle curve of a half-glimpsed, lightly freckled female nude—both illustrate The Trial Of The Century's theme of looking for romance but settling for sex. The title track's piano counterpoints and quietly crooned come-ons are the sound of a former social misfit acting overly worldly in the wake of sexual conquest. Its awkward pseudo-sophistication offers the same comfort that dreamy Britpop bands supplied virginal teen fans two decades ago: the sense that someone understands what it's like to confuse a yearning for transcendent love with the physical effects of overactive hormones.

Also like its moody forebears, French Kicks serves up its own sensual pleasures, specially designed for those still awaiting a first meaningful kiss. The surging guitars and minor keys of "Don't Thank Me," the tinny chime and relentless pulse of "Was It A Crime," Matthew Stinchcomb's breathy cooing on the pretty midtempo ballad "Following Waves," and the monotone quaver of "Only So Long" are all gifts from a band that takes pleasure in each little touch.

As for its place in the larger new rock movement, The Trial Of The Century's forward motion is on a par with The Walkmen's leap from the gray clang of its debut to the committed window-rattling of this year's Bows + Arrows. The development of 2002's buzz bands bodes well for the future. The ball's in your court now, Hot Hot Heat.