More infectious than Ebola! More hooks than your grandpa's tackle box! Sticks like a hanging chad in your brain! Alright, enough, I'll stop. But, seriously, these guys have really got potential to spare. Enough potential, maybe, to someday become a capital "G" capital "B" great band. (We'll wait and see if that happens, though, before we make any outrageous claims.) But what a terrible name! Really. I mean, c'mon, Beatles allusion or not, that's a hell of a thing to call yourself. When I'm forced into saying the name out loud, I feel just like the fat white dude from the old IHOP commercial that haunts the pancake house in cheap masquerade get-up because he can't endure the shame of asking the waitress for "the rooty-tooty-fresh-and-fruity breakfast, please."

Dumb name notwithstanding, the important thing is that Death Cab cares. Every release these guys have turned out to date evinces an affectionate attention to detail and an unwillingness to cut corners. From their consistently well-sculpted, sad and saccharine pop songs to the beautifully designed CD sleeves they commission from Thingmakers, these guys obviously enjoy what they're doing. And, most importantly, they want the listener to enjoy it as well.

The Forbidden Love EP consists of three new songs and two retooled tracks from this year's We Have the Facts and We're Voting Yes. "Photobooth," the eminently hummable opening song, begins with a four-bar intro of lo-fi and cheesily perfect Casio-style dance beat that gives way to the round, warm-blooded splendor of the first verse. The effect attained when the grainy, submerged-sounding lead-off is suddenly overtaken by the fuller and lush sound of the song's main body is powerful. The no-tech Casio beat persists for the song's duration, buried subtly in the mix, and makes a nice percussive counterpoint to Michael Schorr's tastefully restrained drumming. Decorative flourishes like synthesized strings and toy piano effortlessly enhance where they might have obtruded, and keep Benjamin Gibbard's cloyingly sweet melody from becoming stale.

The next track, "Technicolor Girls," is a lazy ballad whose melody bears more than a passing resemblance to those of Quasi's Sam Coomes. Though pretty, it's definitely the EP's weak link, dragging on longer than is probably called for, and offering little to chew on other than the repetitive, cleanly picked guitar line and a general pleasantness. Zzzz...

Things are back on track with "Song for Kelly Huckaby." Waltzy, driving drums, nice interplay between the synth lines and the vocal melody, along with the distorted but low-key guitar playing come together beautifully. At times, Gibbard's singing is outmuscled by the synthstrings, but problems with the mix aren't quite enough to sink the song, which is easily as good as anything they've released before.

The EP's two final cuts are alternate versions of arguably the best songs off We Have the Facts: "405" and "Company Calls Epilogue." Ordinarily, this kind of thing is a good indicator you oughta stay the hell away; 40% of this EP is, after all, old material. Death Cab, however, does a beautiful job of reprising these tracks, revamping not just the arrangements but their entire personality and tenor. The new takes on these two songs are worth the price of the entire EP.

As you might surmise from the title, "405 (Acoustic)" strips the original down to its essence. The omission of the drum tracks leaves the high notes strummed on the up-beat as the song's sole rhythmic force, and the result is striking. Compared to the original, this version is much more intimate as well as, um, pretty. And it's certainly not gonna quell further comparison to Elliot Smith. Gibbard isn't quite the songwriting sophisticate that Smith has been-- yet. But his easy grasp of melody and his great voice bode well for the future.

"Company Calls Epilogue (Alternate)" boasts several cool changes. Delay has been added to the main arpeggiated guitar line, turning every picked note into two, and a touch of delay has been layered on Gibbard's singing. The song has a more relaxed, narcotic feel to it. Rhythm-wise, the great boom-tap boom-tap kick-and-snare bit that underlined the lyrics "But I can't" and "Date's been set" in the original chorus have been removed, and the drum levels have been lowered to subconscious levels. The result is a floaty effect. The soporific scenery makes the ideal background for the addition of a bright ride cymbal in the pre-chorus that's panned sharp to the left and seems to be coming from directly behind you. Spooky! Again, these guys realize it's all in the details.

Yes, they obviously know what they're doing. But they've still got to change that name. I suppose it's working for them, though, what with the Seventeen interviews and all. For now, just hold your breath and hope they don't get huge and make the jump to the "adult" market. You'd have to knock them substantial cutie points if they appeared in Cosmo as delegates from the Land of Sensitive Guys, or to weigh in on blowjob technique, or worse still, to appear photographed hanging out with Courtney Love. Or god forbid, Drew Barrymore. Come to think of it, maybe they ought to just add five members and change that name of theirs to God Forbid Drew Barrymore. Yeah!

-Camilo Arturo Leslie