"At last we will reveal ourselves to the Jedi. At last we will have revenge..." I quote Darth Maul not so much because of the one year anniversary of "Episode I," or the video's release or because this, his most important line, is so emblematic of To The Innocent. I quote him more to relieve the insufferable temptation to unite this Thingy-shaped missive from the mind of Rob Crow with the most recent cultural monolith from the mind of George Lucas, "The Phantom Menace." Let me lay the groundwork for you:

1. These are both 4ths: In chronology, at least, if not in narrative sequence. Even though "The Phantom Menace" technically came first, it's the fourth "Star Wars" film to be made. The Thingy system likewise features four planets. The first two are records by Heavy Vegetable, Rob Crow's last band. Both of that band's albums are miracles of incredibly lame lyrics which were pasted into some of the most jarringly angular, yet unforgettable pop-punk to issue from that galaxy far, far away. The silly, self-indulgent, cute words Rob Crow sang on Heavy Vegetable's albums were to Ewoks as their dark, masterfully played, and rhythmically compelling music was to all of "The Empire Strikes Back." Rob Crow's third orbital shell holds Thingy's first record, Songs about Angels, Evil, and Running Around on Fire. Like Jedi, it's a bit of a shift of gears. The album still possessed the voice of Elea Tenuta, Crow's banal lyric wit, stunning, Mark Trombino-produced drums beaten into gorgeous submission by Mario Rubalcaba-- the things that made Heavy Vegetable's albums so great. But the record was also entirely new-- somehow more mature, savvy, charming but slick. Fourth and latest: To the Innocent.

2. The "Much-Anticipated" Factor: Do I need to remind you how long you waited for "Episode I?" No. In a fashion similar to Lucas' (think "Willow"), the ascension of Rob Crow's star has been anchored by the dead weight of lesser projects. His 1996 solo album, Lactose Adept, though an intriguing glimpse into the mind, bedroom, and four-track of Crow and his musical co-habitants, went largely unnoticed and unloved, even by die-hards. Further, the release of To the Innocent, after being whispered into reality on the Web, suffered setbacks aplenty as Cargo/Headhunter floundered, folded or both. The eventual reception of both "The Phantom Menace" and To the Innocent prove one thing, if nothing else: really anticipating something doesn't mean that the final product will be what you really anticipated.

3. The "Flawed Masterpiece" Factor: Remember how about ten minutes into "The Phantom Menace" you started not liking it so much all of a sudden? You were impressed by the look, feel and sound-- you were swept away by the familiar elements, and ready to be impressed for another hour, right? Then, along came this retarded, moronically gallivanting humanoid mudskipper and the excitement was dulled, if not brutally murdered. Well, Thingy does a bit of the same on their third track, "Big Dumb Animal." The song is a drum-machined dirge of idiocy that, in its failure, manages to wriggle its pathetic way into the mix and paradoxically fit. Here are the complete lyrics-- see if you make the connections I did: "I'm an imbecile, imbecile/ I'm a big, dumb animal/ Put my fingers in the fan." You can press the "skip" button anytime you want. Likewise, if you own "The Phantom Menace" on video, you can hit "FFWD." I do.

4. Rob Crow Likes "Star Wars:" Forget that a track from Songs about Angels is mysteriously entitled "Semolina/Kessel Run." Let's just consider the bewilderingly pretty, acoustic-strummed, and vocally harmonized "O.B. 1," one of To the Innocent's numerous high points. More complete lyrics: "Help me O.B. 1/ Me and the Rebel Alliance need your help/ Gotta save my home world of Alderan." Couldn't possibly be a shockingly great song, right? Strangely, it is.

And many of them are. The majority of this record is just what Thingy fans have been waiting for. Rob Crow hasn't stopped being the quirkiest pop writer ever to put intense, jagged, and complex rhythmic guitar-rock where his mouth is. Thingy still juxtaposes fuzz-washed, syncopated verse with warm-toned arpeggio breakdowns. The band still forces you to accept the fact that they simply will not take themselves seriously, even though their actual music screams in your ear that they should. It's a trick few artists attempt and fewer pull off.

George Lucas claims that the Star Wars movies are "for the children in us all"-- that they are for fun, primarily-- then he goes and "revolutionizes digital filmmaking" with Jar Jar Binks. "The Phantom Menace" failed in its inability to balance youthful exuberance with the sophistication needed to entertain adults. Thingy proves that it can be done, but that you might have to offend some of the adult ears in the process. Maybe that's why he addressed this record to the innocent.

-Judd Picco