Though I'm not sure if these songs were recorded for a scrapped movie project, it wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that Tim Burton employed Friends of Dean Martinez to write the soundtrack for some failed attempt at a spaghetti western. The songs seem destined for such a film, what with their ghostly translations of peremptorily Western themes. And if the idea of owning something so unmistakably leftfield appeals to you, you'll probably love In the Wire. If not, then go spend your money on something less eclectic like the Strokes.

Okay, the Burton thing was a bad analogy but that doesn't change the quality of these four songs, available only on this limited edition release of two 45s. I don't know whether flipping the record after every track is supposed to make listening a more interactive experience or if it's just an unforeseen hassle that helped contribute to the medium's demise, but it actually helps the flow of the EP rather than hindering it. The more macabre pieces-- including the title number-- can be conveniently found on the first record, whereas the second features more formulaic country-inspired tunes. Such a contrast in style usually implies a lack of sonic direction, but one Friends of Dean Martinez's traits is the ability to infuse their characteristic sound with any genre that crosses their path.

The slide guitar still sounds like an amalgamation of Ennio Morricone and David Gilmour (circa Meddle), and the band still has an affinity for ethereal reverb. Yet, there are definite signs of progress littered throughout this collection. Such is the case with "Main Theme," which features some of the most complex arrangements to ever grace a Friends release. Dave Lachance and Brad Fordham have evolved from an ample rhythm section backing the interwoven guitar play of Mike Semple and Bill Elm to versatile contributors responsible for some truly stellar dynamics. Over the years, Elm and Semple seem to have made a few discoveries in their ever-constant pursuit of "subtlety," a long, elusive attribute that, when achieved, greatly increases the effectiveness of their work. And periodically, the band relies on gentle flourishes of mellotron or organ rather than the typical slide guitar frenzy that's commonly found at the center of the group's efforts.

The songs are a little more raw this time around, though not drastically enough to estrange long-time fans. Rather, Friends of Dean Martinez appear to be rationally developing the more experimental methods of sculpting noise they introduced on Atardecer while preserving the sound of a band playing live. On the EP's title cut, they succeed by adding tinges of psychedelia to their instrumental lamentations. Elsewhere, on "Wichita Lineman," the orchestration offers more diversity than on previous excursions. In this modern resurgence of instrumental bands tentatively titled "post-rock," it's hard to retain an individual style while still flirting with new, unexampled recipes for songwriting. It's good to know that Friends of Dean Martinez are past the stage of dipping their toes in the water and are on their way to realizing their full potential.

-Kevin Adickes, November 30th, 2001