Squirm (aka German electronica) is back, and while still not primed for attack, it's now capable of delivering a crucial payload. Arch-squirmers Tarwater-- an offshoot of the squirmily palindromic To Rococo Rot-- have finally raised the bar. Before Animals, Suns and Atoms, I judged squirm by the Notwist's crunchy outsider-electro LP, Shrink. Released on Stereolab's Duophonic label, Shrink elevated squirm from two-minute patch-corded interludes to album-length approximations of the unrealized soundclash between Can's Schloss Nörvenich acid excursions and our post-drum-n-bass ProTools culture.

Frontman Ronald Lippok lazily states the facts and repercussions of insect disappearance as percussive blips and Farfisa-generated choir cloak his reminiscences, while encouraging us to "Come on down/ Break it up." With one foot firmly placed in the same puddle of pop irresistibility as Britney Spears' Swedish producer, and the other in that grand Kraut-rock tradition, this track, "All the Ants Have Left Paris," sounds like the perfect combination of high-falutin' avant-garde expression and low-brow pop thrills. At least, until the following track, "Noon," lollops in and fulfills our dreams of Kate Bush taking a shot at the genre with warm pianos and swaggering percussion clicks.

As Lippok mutters, "Abuse committed by criminals itself commits a crime," a female accomplice harmonizes in a Zanax fog. Underneath, a student learns to play the sitar until a "European Son"-like attack of the John Cales overcomes his reverence for the instrument, and he throttles it. Of course, Tarwater, like the camera-wielding kid next door in "American Beauty," are fascinated by this strangulation and give it prominence.

"The Trees" is a far less energetic track than "Ants," but Lippok nonetheless snaps at his Dada chorus ("Don't ever antagonize the home"). His strangely unnerving vocals are propelled by a nagging cello and percussive mouth harp as he reveals, "I like to yell when it's snowing." I'm sure his neighbors appreciate that.

But the band saves their oddest and most surreptitious moments for last. On "Seven Ways to Fake a Perfect Skin," Tarwater act out their fantasies of becoming one of Brian Eno's oblique strategies (or, at the very least, an out-take off Here Come the Warm Jets). Giddy analog synth loops and plucked harpsichord haunt the background. But Tarwater's frivolity is offset by Lippok's sinister whibble and fake London accent.

On Animals, Suns and Atoms, Tarwater have finally realized that though analog mood sauce can be spread over phat hip-hop beats, it doesn't mean it necessarily should be. After all, they have to do better than the Notwist's "Day 7" and "Chemicals" at some point. Those two superb Notwist tracks defined the direction in which squirm should be headed. I want to hear outsider vocals accompanied by skewed, electronic cracks, blips, and a hearty gutbucket of hip-hop funk.

I'm thrilled that Lippok and Jestram have picked up on the Notwist tactic. Tarwater have easily equaled Shrink in terms of effectiveness and creativity. They've captured the funk of Ege Bam Yasi-era Can, run it through with a provocative dub disquiet, and ended up with an album that marks new heights in electronic music. Here is an album I'll return to frequently. It's your squirm now!

-Paul Cooper