Dead Man Ray hail from Antwerp, Belgium. Yeah, I didn't know they had guitars there, either. According to a legend, there used to be a large, gnarly ogre who guarded the bridge into the city, exacting unreasonably heavy tolls from travelers. Anybody foolish enough to refuse the exorbitant charge would get his hand lopped off and tossed in the river. Antwerp (or "Antwerpen") literally translates as "hand throwing." On Dead Man Ray's website, you'll come across the phrase "the Antwerp scene." Something about that is just too fucking funny for words. Apologies to all my thousands of Belgian fans, I mean no disrespect. Perhaps a lesson is in order:

Holland is a tiny, well-run country north of France and Belgium, much of which lies below sea level. Anne Frank resided there as did some guy called William of Orange. Oh yeah, and Rembrandt and Mondrian were from there, too. Weed is legal there, the girls are all beautiful, and everyone speaks like eight goddamned languages. Just south of the Netherlands lies Belgium-- of waffle fame. While the Dutch speak Nederlands, Belgians principally speak Flemish. It's basically the same language.

The major difference between the two countries seems to be that tourists visit the Netherlands in droves, while Belgium receives only a trickle. The obvious explanation for this is that lame American backpackers can't go to Brussels for whoring expeditions, or to get baked in public with impunity. Belgium, on the other hand, is a tiny, expensive country known for quality chocolate, the battle of Waterloo, and diamond cutting. But certainly not for rock and roll.

Dead Man Ray would like to change this perception. Shoot for the stars, guys. Berchem Trap is 76 minutes of mostly unremarkable rock and roll. I think they were going for "Antwerp's answer to Radiohead." The truth is much closer to late-80's pop/rock jokesters the Smithereens, with momentary flashes of U2 and Pixies aspirations.

The band is comprised of Daan Stuyven, a graphic designer, a painter named Rudy Trouve, sometimes Front 242 collaborationist Elko Blijweerdt, jazz drummer Karel De Backer, and engineer/keyboardist Wouter Van Belle. Stuyven and Trouve met at a wedding party for the first time, when both of them were drunk. The rest is Belgian Rock History. (Hahaha!)

"BeeGee" is Berchem Trap's first and maybe best track. The production is dense but fairly crisp. The melody is sort of grating, but the music is engaging enough, and instruments are panned and leveled in such a way as to keep all the components separate and individually perceptible. "Inc." is a semi-dancy, Garbage-inspired mess of clichés. Atmospheric sound tampering, such as distorted, reverbed drums shoot the track in the foot.

Things follow this unfortunate course for some time. Things go from derivative-bad to derivative-worse with no end in sight. The one bright spot remains the production. "Chemical", the seventh track, is ray of sun after many dark tracks. It's basic standard mid-tempo pop-rock with occasional Black Francis guitar touches, and odd Bono-like backing vocals. The lulling ordinariness of the track is broken by an arrestingly strange and dissonant bridge, full of electronic screeches and discordant piano tinkling.

"Toothpaste", the eleventh track is the next bright spot. Acoustic guitar, bare-bones electronic percussion, a circular keyboard riff, and some nicely clashing guitar noodling, come together well for one of the album's most effective moments. "Nezt" is perhaps the last of the mention-worthy songs. It's nothing special, but it works.

The truth is, though, that this sort of stuff leaves me at a loss. I suppose that cultural forms are everybody's property, not the exclusive domain of any one group of people. Given. There's a million examples to substantiate that claim. In that light, it would be sort of patronizing to say that it's a shame these guys sing in English and not Flemish. If they wanted to they would, right? Still, while this stuff is solid alterna-radio-rock, there's really no need for it. At least not over here. I'm sure after a night of raucous Ghent nightlife hijinx, a half-dozen Belgian beers, and a dozen fancy chocolates, Dead Man Ray are the perfect soundtrack to unwind to. In the spirit of cultural exchange, I'll make sure to eat a Belgian waffle next time I listen to the Pixies.

-Camilo Arturo Leslie