More EPs. From more Swedes, looks like. So, it's official, my Pitchfork niche has been carved out for me: I'm the Swedish EP guy.

"Well, damnit," I said to myself as I began to scope the Cardigans-esque cover art of Cinnamon's latest offering, The Many Moods of Cinnamon. "Why do I have to be the Swede guy?" I mean, I can't even point out Scandinavia on a map. I sure as hell don't get their obsession with the goofy retro-lounge lifestyle or their fanatic love for Black Sabbath. I can't make watches and I've never worn wooden shoes in my life-- why would the karmic gods strap me with the task of interpreting the musical whims of the country's indie rock bands? And even after listening to the damn EP, I still don't know. What I do know is that I spent all 33 minutes of this sugary sweet, neo-easy listening and completely fucking demented record with a confused and highly frightened look on my face.

Maybe it's something in their water, or maybe it's all the damn chocolate they eat, or maybe it's all these damn stereotypes I'm forcing on them, but Europeans seem to view the world much differently than we Americans. To them, nothing is all happy or perfectly innocent. Basically, anything can be as dark and twisted as Courtney Love's sex drive or some ham-smelling, pedophilia merchants. On the plus side, that's what makes European music so intriguing, surprising and creative. On the downside, that's also why their music so damned unnerving at times. That conflict is definitely present here-- namely in the tension between Cinnamon's lounge act roots and their innocent, happy music, versus the pessimistic outlook on life that Europeans seem to find so chic. In fact, it's the predominating influence on The Many Moods of Cinnamon, and it makes for some mighty strange listening.

The first thing you'll notice on Moods is The Voice. Cinnamon vocalist Frida Diesen has The Voice and she's not afraid to fire it off like a large, melodic gun. It's beautiful-- an emotion-soaked quasi-falsetto that leaps and swings between sounding childlike, heartbroken, angelic and sultry. It's the perfect voice to front this music-- a lounge sound that's clever without being pretentious.

No, none of this music is groundbreaking on its own, but on occasion, it may draws you in enough to warrant a tapping toe. But stuffed inside this fluffy, pop-flavored mix lie lyrics as sharp and violent as shrapnel. Cinnamon wax poetic about our eventual deaths and the general meaninglessness of life ("Maybe in the Next Life"), obsessive love ("Did You Think I Would Ever Let You Go?"), complete and total nihilism ("Nothing") and other sunshiny topics, all to music that would be at home in a dentist's waiting room. It paints an interesting picture-- one that resembles watching a back alley stabbing death while ice cream truck calliope music plays in the background. Alone, neither the music nor the lyrics hold much intrigue, but when combined they at least make you listen.

But, no matter how interesting the total picture is, the Cinnamon experience is still built on too many gimmicks to stand on its own two legs. It might be good for a few listens in the record store, or maybe for actual purchase if you're really into lounge music and melodramatic lyrics. But if you're not the one guy in America that's into both Rat Pack music and serial killers, The Many Mood of Cinnamon probably won't do much for you.

-Steven Byrd