Everyone's been very concerned about my spiritual well-being lately. My grandmother presented me with a framed copy of The Ten Commandments a month ago, and since then she's been pressing to determine whether my (Jewish) boyfriend and I ever go to church. The guy outside the student union has been fervently pushing brochures into my hands as I pass, loving illustrated with sick images of the sinner's afterlife. So how do I react to these well-intentioned advances? Generally with poorly concealed discomfort and an immediate effort to escape the conversation.

Not surprisingly, I was a little wary of Soul-Junk, a band previously best known for its use of verbatim Bible verse as lyrics. But while they've given up that ghost, Soul-Junk remain steadfastly devoted to Christ. Fortunately, they're also pretty devoted to an eclectic range of musical influences, and pretty proficient at deploying them. 1956 handily transcends the "Christian music" scene, and though 15 songs about Jesus (and two instrumentals which are probably also about Jesus) may seem like a little much, Soul Junk pull it off with a minimum of evangelism.

Musically, much of 1956 evokes recent hip-hop trendsetters like Jurassic 5 and Blackalicious. "Ill-M-I," built around a violin sample, showcases Soul-Junk ringleader's Glen Galaxy strong mic skills. On "How We Flow" he indulges in typical MC bravado and throws out some silly but clever rhymes ("My rhymes rain down like air fresheners/ Making pansies smell like hyacinth/ I just called around for fart sounds, someone said:/ Go out and buy a synth") only to end the song with an articulate point about academia's skepticism towards religion.

Elsewhere, Soul-Junk prove there's more to them than samplers and rhyming to their work. "Sarpodyl" evokes Mellow Gold-era Beck, with a similar folky, lo-fi approach, though Galaxy forsakes earthly songwriterly concerns like puking to promote redemption. "Judah" features sneering vocals and '60s garage rock guitars. "Dry Bones," the album's closing track, proves to be Soul-Junk's least interesting offering-- after the high-energy offerings up to this point, this heartfelt, horn-inflected ballad topping eight minutes is decidedly anti-climactic.

If you can get past the preaching, Soul-Junk have a lot to offer. They fuse disparate genres, a process made easier by their singular thematic focus, though admittedly one that may put off a lot of listeners. Either way, 1956 may end up being the only thing ever to inspire my boyfriend to hail Jesus, even if only temporarily. Sorry, Grandma.

-Meg Zamula