Folks, we call it math-rock for a reason. Math, arithmetic, geometry: these are all disciplines presumed to be devoid of emotion. The integers are static and unchanging, and the equations constant. 4 + 4 will always equal 8, and to get the hypotenuse squared, you'll always need to add the squares of both sides. No matter how sad you feel, or how joyous or bored, these facts remain undistorted. That genre of music we, the media, enjoy calling "math-rock" was tagged as such for the parallel set of qualifications it displays.

Math-rock systematically takes the emo out of emo and replaces it with numerically representable time signatures, bent on disjointing the emotional response of the audience. "Don't get quite comfortable with that nice beat, there. Don't start getting 'into it,'" the great math-rock bands say. "Because we're gonna change in just a second, here." Genre-wide lyrical poverty only bolsters the distancing process.

Bald Rapunzel seem intent on narrowing this music/listener gap. Musically, they straddle that imaginary chasm between the Jawbox-ing of guitar pugilists like Braid, and the rolling, percussive duels of combos like Dianogah and Ilium. Ironically, the vocal quotient of frontwoman Bonnie Schlegel makes it difficult to place Bald Rapunzel squarely on the graph of either of these lines. To map Bonnie's voice, make x = a heavily drugged Gwen Stefani, and y = Dawn Smithson of Jessamine. It's a soulful soprano that, on Diazepam's better tracks (see the pertly titled "Ms. Leading" or "Sun Drop"), skillfully pulls her cleanly recorded, chiming guitar work together with that of fellow strummer Leo Doucette. The result is a familiar but intermittently engaging pie graph that might have been the pre- to whatever Seely is post- of.

But wait a second. I just used the word "soulful" a few sentences back. Does the presence of palpable sentiment mean a bridge has been erected between the Kingdoms of Emo and Math, or that these two warring states in the Fabled Land of Rock may soon unite? Not quite. Bald Rapunzel, trapped on high in her fairy tale castle, wouldn't quite pass for the crusading Knight on the White Horse, either. Interestingly enough, this D.C.-area foursome have named themselves aptly enough to get at the heart of the problem. A Bald Rapunzel doesn't have the one thing she needs to save herself, and it might take her a while to grow it out.

What I'm getting at is that Bald Rapunzel sounds... well, inexperienced. Although Schlegel's a capella retelling of the standard "Dark End of the Street" opens the record with a classy, emotive jab at irony, what follows never quite counterpunches with the cold-cocking instrumental oomph the corner man is bellowing for. Repeated listenings open wounds that stagger this fighter toward a TKO. Katy Otto's drumming is welterweight at best; the band plays the changes stoically while the percussion unit pretty much goes through the motions. M.W. Hitt's bass succeeds only marginally at filling in the blanks; "Ale 81" proves him a worthy competitor, while its untitled follow-up instrumental displays a potential that Bald Rapunzel only hints at fulfilling on this record. But despair they should not.

Suffice it to say that Diazepam is a wobbly and weak-kneed but determined step in a direction that betrays a kindred distrust of flat out emo, be it -rock, -core, or -pop. In the same moment, these Baldies don't seem content with the soulless machinations of math. I knew there had to be something subversive about the band leaving the evil number 6 out of their track listing. These kids just might be onto something...

-Judson Picco