The best thing about having no expectations is that it's virtually impossible to be disappointed. And the best thing about hearing a debut album by an unknown band for the first time is that expectations are almost nonexistent.

Spacious International are a band with an unlikely birth. A golem assembled from the spare parts of one of the more successful guitar-pop bands in the Tampa Bay region, Edison Shine, the band is an oddity. They're as unlikely a newcomer as there ever was on a local music scene that-- quite rightly-- has been known primarily as the Death Metal capital of the world.

In composing their eponymous debut, James Bess and Gerald Hammill purposefully sequestered themselves in an apartment one fecund weekend, with the only unspoken rule being a complete aversion to anything with a rock beat. And while they didn't quite hit their mark, the result is a record with a de-emphasis on the rock, even less on the roll, and heavy on the Casio.

Can you hear funk in there? Unsure. Precambrian electronica a la Kraftwerk? Maybe. Lounge? Insufficient data. Jazz? Well, if you twist my arm... The only sure thing is that the majority recalls a superbly executed reinvention of '60s-style sanitized Brazilian Afro-pop. And talk about a genre in legitimate need of an overhaul.

In much the same way that musical doppelgangers Ween somehow accomplish their mimicry of style without derision, Spacious International draw originality from their cheap synths by adopting musical sensibilities far removed, in both time and culture, from their own. But as any anthropologist will tell you, it's nearly impossible to completely separate yourself from your own culture. Picture motherly Astrid Gilberto singing lullabies to an infant who then grows up to discover that his real father was Frank Zappa.

Tracks like "Capone" lilt along on whispered, repetitious lyrical loops, underscored by hooks that could make the cast of I Know What You Did Last Summer 3 scream in scripted hysterics. The disjointed "Robots" declares in earnest, "If robots ruled the world/ If I had another life/ Maybe then you'd be my girl/ Trying to paint a blackened pearl/ Robots help you find." And the ambitious instrumental, "Monsters of Munich," manages to be engaging throughout its duration, the primary hurdle for any vocalless song.

The rare misfires occur when the band occasionally attempts to straddle more genres than necessary. There's no need to shoot for the moon here: the Lazarus-like resurrection of a forgotten idiom is enough of an accomplishment for a bored weekend.

There are plenty of different ways for music to grab your attention. Spacious International is like that guy at the office who suddenly and silently appears behind you, waiting for you to notice him. But instead of a shout in the face, this record brushes lightly against your elbow, whispering, "Don't forget me." And you can't.

-John Dark