On the popular improvisational comedy television program "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" there's a segment in which the participants are asked to act out a specific type of skit in the style of various well-known theatrical or filmic archetypes. To give an exceedingly mundane example, the task might be to act out a bank robbery in the style of Shakespeare. On Parlor, Patrick Phelan and his band of journeymen musician friends sound like lovelorn singer/songwriters shooting to recreate the elegance of Getz and Gilberto.

Every track on Parlor features the easily recognizable indicators of Brazilian music; the plucked guitar chords exploit sevenths whenever possible, and hand drums figure prominently. The cover art even features the muted pastels that are typical of this kind of album. Every element that would suggest tropicalia is intact, but the outcome never gives the impression of authenticity. Like Blondie playing reggae, but not as bad as "Rapture," the music sounds like it's being played by complete outsiders. That's not to say, though, that Parlor is a poor effort. The composition and fluidity of the album are decent enough to prevent it from coming off as just another soulless genre record.

The first thing that will come to mind for anyone in the target demographic for Parlor will probably be Sam Prekop's solo debut. Not only does Phelan utilize the same chordal and rhythmic structures as Prekop, he also has a breathy moan that sounds like a cross between Prekop and Elliott Smith. The album's mood is darker and more contemplative than that of Prekop's, however. Phelan sings of love on each and every track-- usually more yearning than requited-- and the instrumental accompaniment compliments that. The production is much deeper than the normally dry sound of Brazilian production and feels more like a night in a villa than a day on the beach.

The one instrumental track on Parlor, "Unearned," is also the best. It adds treated percussion and keyboard to the tropical structure resulting in a drony but down-to-earth piece. It's not such a novelty for any given artist to throw in an extraneous electronic piece to prove his newness and/or ability, but unlike the average token abstract song, "Unearned" really corresponds to the album as a whole and is more than a display of technical prowess.

While Parlor can seem slightly disingenuous and trendy in light of the current popularity of Brazilian music in the independent music world, due in part to acts like Stereolab, who have promoted forgotten artists like Os Mutantes and Carlos Jobim, the heart of the record is Phelan's songwriting. Though it may have a faddish veneer, the music is well composed and played with a subtle melancholia that outweighs the album's detractors with its delicacy and intimacy.

-Michael Wartenbe