The Surveillance is the most cinematic album to come along in quite some time; it would make the perfect soundtrack to '80s sci-fi suspense-thrillers like Blade Runner or The Terminator. In such films, there are basically two types of scenes: the action scenes, and suspense-building scenes, where you're basically waiting around for the action to happen. Likewise, Trans Am's musical repertoire is limited to two types of songs: loud, driving guitar-rock which take the place of explosions and car chases, and cold, sparse, electronic bleeping which delivers the same edge- of- your- seat anticipation as those eerie, expositional movie scenes. It may not sound like a whole lot to work with, especially considering the lack of vocals, but Trans Am manages to turn the broad musical strokes of The Surveillance into a mightily visceral experience, at once creepy and breathless.

Half the time, Trans Am is a band foremost obsessed with the Big Rock Moment, that point in a song that makes you want to thrust your fist in the air and yell, "Yeahhhh! Rock-n-roll, baby!!" They're so obsessed, in fact, that they attempt to stretch that moment out to the length of an entire song. Throughout tracks like "Armed Response" and "Extreme Measures," Trans Am pummels the listener with simple but hypnotically intense two-note riffs, repeating them over and over before suddenly tearing into another riff at just the right moment. The songs owe as much to prog-rock anthemics as they do to punk; it's such a heavily stylized version of rock that it starts approaching something resembling ambient music-- the focus turns away from the riffs themselves to the sonic textures and their gradual metamorphosis over the course of a track.

The other half of The Surveillance-- the electronic tracks-- initially seem to be mere afterthoughts, twiddly little interludes sandwiched between the more rockin' numbers. But Trans Am is wise to alternate the two types of songs; the album's pacing is such that you never tire of either kind.

During the course of the record, these guys manage to wring some pretty freaky sounds out of their bargain-basement synths, lending The Surveillance a more paranoid feel than that of their previous releases. "Access Control" opens with persistent alarm-clock beeping which downshifts into a static-washed shuffle, while the insectoid clicks of "Shadow Boogie" pingpong between the speakers, drifting maddeningly in and out of sync.

The main shortcoming of The Surveillance, oddly enough, is that it seems too short. Trans Am has created an amazing album out of a few guitar chords and a handful of pre-programmed Casio drumbeats, and after 10 tracks and 36 minutes, you'll be hungering for more. Never before has paranoia been so exhiliarting, or traditional rock energy seemed so sinister.

-Nick Mirov