The Aluminum Group: Pedals

With its second album Plano, Chicago's Aluminum Group displayed a consistently clear-eyed idea of what it was trying to accomplish: namely, intelligent lounge-pop so smooth, the melodies slide right out of the speakers. Easy-listening music has rarely been so easy to listen to. On the new Pedals, however, the ambition of brothers Frank and John Navin gets the better of them just as often as it steers them in new, impressive directions. It's admirable that the Navins should seek out wild-card producer, arranger, and provocateur Jim O'Rourke to help them: He brings his ever-expanding collection of tricks and tools to the project, as well as his prominent friends from Chicago's jazz community (many of whom also appeared on the recent Superchunk album) and the international pop scene (such as The High Llamas' Sean O'Hagan). Unfortunately, he also brings with him a murky soup of a sound that—combined with the primarily organic instrumentation—often dampens the Navins' generally sharp execution. It doesn't help that this time out, the songs are also frequently slow and introspective, espousing a languorous '70s sensibility that recalls not just lounge music but also (gasp!) prog-rock—sometimes of the clever Eno variety, sometimes of a more dubious lineage. How else to explain the nine-minute opus "Rrose Selavy's Valise," which opens the album and almost simultaneously drags it down While Pedals is dense and expertly put together enough to curiously captivate after a few casual listens, it's difficult to overlook the lack of the pervasive and persuasively fun, grand hooks that elevated Plano. When these hooks do appear—on "Miss Tate," "Two-Bit Faux Construction," and the up-tempo "Impress Me"—the album leaps to life. Otherwise, Pedals is a bit of an immaculately composed slog, keenly executed and full of challenges but mostly bereft of payoffs.