I'll admit it. I've flirted with elitism. And not just the rock snob kind, but full-blown, misanthropic, average-Joe-hating scorn. Too much time spent amongst the great unwashed will do that to a person. But apparently, my old populist leanings haven't been completely squelched; I still get my hackles up when confronted with big-concept art-- the kind where more effort and concern is spent on the process than the product. I like to think I have enough experience working with artists from my four years in arts administration to benefit from possessing a carefully calibrated bullshit detector.

Twin Princess is an art project in the most uppercase of senses; it's replete with coined words, fabricated technique and predictably flat results. The sometime collaboration between the Posies' Ken Stringfellow-- who refers to himself here only as "Kickstand"-- and Seattle artist/multi-tasker Bootsy Holler began years ago. And this, their six-track Complete Recordings spanning five years of output, won't win them any prizes for fecundity. Or, for that matter, anything outside of an 'E' for effort.

Sculpting music (as opposed to just playing it) through a dubious technique called "crux n' paste," Twin Princess' approach to pop innovation and experimentation almost seems misguided from the outset. Digitally manipulated song pieces are stretched like chewing gum and then Ginsu'd into microparts suitable for reinsertion into other songs and/or restretching. What does this taffy-machine approach to making music sound like? Consistently unnoteworthy experimental pop with too much emphasis on the "how" and not enough on the "why."

The Complete Recordings is a perfect illustration of a whole being less than the sum of its parts. That said, it isn't overtly bad. You really have to dig at it. Inoffensive, simple vocals by Holler are actually kind of endearing at times, and not-that-experimental-at-all song structures are never truly challenging or intimidating. When you really begin to notice it, the space-jazz nods in tracks like "Seahorse Swim" turn artificial, and the rudimentary distorted mess of the opening track, "Althea," sounds like a power chord accident.

Even the promising dancin'-in-a-lesbian-bar groove of "Deep Sleep" fails to hold onto its charm after a few listens. The best of show here comes with the seven-inch standout "Sorry," previously released as the b-side of "Althea." Sweet and spiky, "Sorry" balances micromanaged aggression and ingenuousness, and easily win art-rock single of the album.

A sense of humor exists in some form, as evidenced by the teetery and lumbering cover of "Something Stupid." The Sinatra hit undergoes a near-complete makeover (though the string flourishes are kept intact) into some kind of lurching monster made of slow, grinding guitars and atonal harmonies. It could be the perfect song for that certain mood: a combination of irreverence and cheesy nostalgia.

But perhaps Twin Princess' most successful moment, when yardsticked against their intentions, lies in the closer, "Gimme a Kiss." Looping riffs set against loopy lyrics maneuver through a rainshower of tonal droplets and Max Headroom-like whispered propositions. At last, the painterly approach to musicmaking feels natural. Unfortunately, it's too little too late.

It's commendable that Twin Princess are giving this kind of stuff a shot. Most artists are content to rehash the same pop songs with the same pop structures, which has arguably been done to death. Still, great art doesn't try nearly this hard. It just falls from the fingertips of the masters directly onto the canvas, the potter's wheel or the fretboard.

-John Dark