Trying to intellectualize a Pizzicato Five LP is like trying to intellectualize a Russ Meyer film. It's tempting to sift through the bombardment of pop culture material presented in hopes of finding a deep, poignant commentary on society. In Meyer's case, this requires looking beyond the giant breasts to the greater picture. That's really hard.

Just as difficult is going beyond Pizzicato Five's flash and glitz in an attempt to pinpoint some sort of substance. Maybe it's there and I'm just not down enough with Japanese culture to realize it, but in the five years I've been listening to the duo, I haven't been able to find it. To my native English ears, Pizzicato is all camp, all the time. True, mastermind Yasuharu Konishi is often a great songwriter, and his production on such songs is even better. True, vocalist Maki Nomiya seems aware of the kitschiness of it all and filters a precise amount of irony into her voice, without ever really going overboard. Ultimately, though, Pizzicato Five are false. That may be the point, but after listening to their newest American LP, The Fifth Release from Matador, that point overstays its welcome.

Fifth follows the same Bacharach/Gainbourg/Motown thread as its superior predecessor, 1999's Playboy and Playgirl. But nothing new happens here, not even within the duo's derivative sphere. The beats are still bouncy as hell, and the string-laden melodies are still layered ear candy. However, this fullness is less Wall of Sound and more Vegas showroom. Whereas Konishi's production on past efforts has sounded appropriately bountiful, he now simply revels in excess.

What makes Fifth most unremarkable is the fact that it's nearly bereft of the great, catchy songwriting we've seen from Pizzicato Five in the past. The melodies are by and large placid; it feels like they're attempting sophistication and achieving vacuousness. The songs blend together all too seamlessly, and on tracks like the slinky "Wild Strawberries," Nomiya sounds genuinely bored. This isn't what I want from my camp. Nor do I want "Roma," an instrumental that sounds taken from an episode of "Tom and Jerry" on fast forward.

One track stands out, though, and does much to redeem the sleepiness of the rest of the album. "Tout, Tout Pour Ma Cherie" is a frenzied charge of candy store goodness. It's a hyper, highly synthesized, happy hardcore throwdown. It sounds like a theme to a cute anime movie injected with 100cc's of spunk. It makes me want to adopt a small talking pet, and run really fast around the perimeter of the globe at midnight, pumping my arms and gaping my mouth in excitement.

Sadly, "Tout, Tout Pour Ma Cherie" is just a brief glimmer of camp-done-right on The Fifth Release from Matador. I'm still laughing with Pizzicato Five rather than at them. However, this time, my ecstatic guffaws are mere giggles. Like many fine craftsman of kitsch, the duo are well aware of what they're doing and are smart enough to do it with a straight face, but they just aren't delivering enough of what we want. Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! would have become boring within ten minutes without all the cleavage. In light of this, Fifth is overdressed.

-Richard M. Juzwiak