Belying the redux implications of their band name, Halifax, Nova Scotia's (the title of a track from ) were more the epitome of 's noise-pop aesthetic. On their third official album, , shades of , and all creep in periodically, but that's merely in line with the sound of most '90s indie rock across the continent, from Seattle to Chapel Hill. The songs are definitive noise-pop: short, concise, and roughed-up with distortion and occasionally eruptions into the style of guitar pyrotechnics favored by , while the songs have the quiet-loud-quiet dynamics and sweet sing-songy vocals favored by and company. This is not to say the band is derivative, but a cursory listen to should allow even an amateur musical historian to place this album in context. The only anomaly is the "medley" an ill-advised song suite that's in reality a muddled hodgepodge consisting of an opening blast of feedback followed by an acoustic ditty sung by , a dreamy ballad sung by , a fuzz guitar and brushed drums shoegaze samba, and a slow-motion piano-dappled dreamscape, all tied together with smidgens of lackluster audience applause that only serves to confuse the listener, especially as it's the album opener. The remainder of the album sets forth the band's blueprint of psych- and noise-tinged anthemic pop with just enough dissonance and dynamics to keep the mosh pit moving. It spans the gamut from -esque waltz-time dream pop like to driving motorik like to rollicking stompers like It's a fine effort, and in reality not as formulaic as one might think. And with most songs around or under the three-minute mark, if one track doesn't inspire there will be another one just around the corner. It will be a shame if history doesn't remember in the same canon as their more illustrious peers, but the U.S.'s little brother Canada often seems to get the short end of the stick. ~ Brian Way