Lo, the communal well of post-punk nectar runs deep! What with the ghosts of Gang of Four and Public Image Ltd. permeating the neo-dancepunk postures of the post-"Take Me Out" world to no end, are you sick of this yet? Relax: just as garage rock revivalism imploded within two years of its emergence, the dancepunk trend thankfully holds the promise of a wonderfully miniscule shelf-life. May it fester in the bargain bin for eternity.So why should you care about the Futureheads? After all, taking cues from the likes of XTC and Devo, the English four-piece is yet another product of retro-culture obsession; Hell- their new self-titled album-released stateside last week, was even produced by Gang of Four's Andy Gill. Here's why you should care: unlike contemporaries Franz Ferdinand and Bloc Party, the Futureheads don't rely on dirty bass lines; this is genuine art-punk at its best.

And it's an odd, confusing album at that: few songs extend beyond three minutes, none have an identifiable chorus yet all are insanely catchy, elaborate vocal harmonies are the most prominent instrument (Brandeis a cappella aficionados rejoice!) and of all songs to cover, they delightfully choose Kate Bush's "Hounds of Love." Unlike a certain Scottish band named after a certain Austrian archduke, The Futureheads have recorded the most exciting album to emerge from the British Isles all year. "Now whip it!," you say?

A round of Doo-Doos, Bop-Bops, Ooh-Oohs, Ah-Ahs and the occasional Mmm-Bop introduce our Sunderland-hailing heroes in opener "Le Garage," a karate-chopping cut of vocally-driven spazz-rock. Each of the four members has a microphone, and it is clear-even from this first song-that the album places an explicit emphasis on the band's vocal strengths. With their ranges falling squarely between XTC's Andy Partridge and The Cars' Ric Ocasek, the Futureheads sound like a late-70s post-punk barbershop quartet. As entirely unexpected as it is, this quality is entirely intentional; before they were able to afford PA's, the band would conduct separate rehearsals for music and vocals.

Continuing with the tongue-in-cheek "Robot," the Futureheads make no effort to disguise the musical era they so obviously admire and emulate. "I am a robot/living like a robot/talk like a robot," they proclaim, tossing a wink at the quasi-futurist lyrics of classic New Wavers like Thomas Dolby and Missing Persons. Even beyond their interstellar allusions, lyrics like "This is a brand new problem/a problem without any clues/if you know the clues/it's easier to get through," - from "Decent Days and Nights" - are just confidently stupid enough to be taken seriously, or at least as a novel throwback.

And somehow, this almost-precious banality still helps to constitute some deliberately intelligent pop music. The lyrics are childish, but the harmonized delivery is masterful; the arrangements are simple, but the structures are wonderfully complex. So how could something so immediately juvenile be so smart? Take "Danger of the Water" for example: at first entirely a cappella, a gentle keyboard line then surfaces. Never losing its subtlety, the song reaches a climax as the band begins to scream "danger!" and "water!," entirely avoiding traditional choruses and verses. Throughout the disc, songs progress as either exponentially-building crescendos or multi-parted suites, all the while remaining inescapably infectious.

It would be hard to end this review without mentioning their head-turning cover of Kate Bush's "Hounds of Love." Once sweeping and orchestral, the 'Heads version of the 1985 UK hit single takes new form here. As usual, the cut centers on their vocal aerobics, but ultimately succeeds due to their penchant for sheer simplicity. Abandoning the grandeur of Bush's original, "Hounds of Love" is sincere power-pop at its most basic, revolving around a simple axe riff and some hammering percussion. An all-male revivalist band covering the overtly literate

Bush might seem laughable; this seemingly straightforward cover, however, just happens to be the Futureheads' best stab at serious music. Here they sum it up best: "And take your shoes off/and I will throw them in the lake/and I will be two steps on the water/do you know what I need?/I need love yeah yeah!" The Futureheads' debut is certainly charming in its simplicity, yet its layers revealed an originality and beauty oft-ignored by your typical retro-clones.