"What is it that younger women are pushing up against?" asks a male interviewer. A few women's voices can be heard, stumbling over words, grappling for an answer. The nervous giggles, uh's and um's are then sampled into a lo-fi electro sound collage to create the composition Le Tigre call, "They Want Us to Make a Symphony Out of the Sound of Women Swallowing Their Own Tongues." The track, previously heard on last year's Hot Topic UK-only single, is the beguiling centerpiece to the band's new EP, From the Desk of Mr. Lady.

Because Kathleen Hanna has quite admirably never been one to mince words, the track's message is a puzzle. What exactly are ex-Riot Grrl Hanna, videomaker Sadie Benning, and zinester Johanna Fateman trying to accomplish with "Symphony?" Is it an attack on the insensitive males who ask stupid questions? An assault on the girls who betray their more noble sisters with stupid answers? A simple reclaiming of voice?

The answer to the question is as unclear who the titular "they" pertains to. The word "they," or "them," frequently has a vilifying connotation, and in this respect, it seems like it's the corporate, white, conservative man in charge-- we'll call him The Man-- who wants such a track. But The Man doesn't listen to Le Tigre. If he's heard them, he hates them. Le Tigre's audience is primarily comprised of like-minded, liberal individuals who most likely have been listening to Hanna for a while.

Of course, it's not without reason that Hanna's audience has stuck with her. When fronting Bikini Kill, she aggressively showed off her considerable brainpower and a voice as vital as it was abrasive. Her solo project, Julie Ruin, proved her a self-sufficient mastermind of lo-fi electronic bedroom recording. Hell, even last year's debut from Le Tigre, while markedly more accessible, was a gem-- a testament to the unlikely fun that can come of "message music."

But it's because of Hanna's sterling past that the new Le Tigre EP seems a disappointment. Previously, Hanna balanced indignant self-righteousness with irony and intellect, throwing foul-mouthed temper tantrums laced with wit. She took anti-female slurs, wrote them on her stomach and made them her own. Now, she's reclaiming the notoriously anti-feminist comic strip character Cathy, who's pictured on the CD shouting, "In seeking specific technical information, we discover that behind the hysteria of male expertise lies the magic world of our unmade art." It's cute and ironic, but feels like a half-hearted slap when compared to the punch in the face that once jumped around the stage in a midriff with "Slut" inked across her stomach.

It should be explained, I feel, why the focus is on Hanna. Simply, it has to be. Hanna's such a commanding frontwoman, obviously capable of autonomy, that it's often hard to tell, or even care, where the other members fit in, save for sporadic vocals. Hanna appears the navigator of whatever her musical vehicle happens to be at the moment, and when she's not in top form, the whole operation is threatened. And on From the Desk of Mr. Lady, Hanna is simply not in top form.

The EP opens with "Get Off the Internet," a lo-fi dose of old school hip-hop beats and Motown riffs that, like most of the music on the record, trods a similar path to the one Le Tigre paved on their debut. Hanna hollers, "Destroy the right wing," preaching to an already-converted-years-and-years-ago set. Though the lyrics are dabbed with self-awareness in the mix ("This is repetitive/ But nothing has changed"), it doesn't make up for the broken-record effect of the song.

As always, Hanna deserves props for saying what few others bother to explore. "Bang! Bang!" decries the NYPD for the murders of Patrick Dorismund and Amadou Diallo. The song doesn't necessarily add anything to the liberal outlook on police shootings of unarmed men, but does distill the widespread beliefs admirably and simply into a pop song. At the end of the track, the members of Le Tigre count in unison to 41, a number for every bullet Diallo received. It's resounding, stirring, and as effective as Hanna gets. And that's saying a lot.

But that's about it when it comes to notable messages that Hanna brings to the table. "Gone B4 Yr Home" has the bounce of "Girlfriend in a Coma," the pseudo-Caribbean schmaltz of "Kokomo," the electronic-Casio feel of an early Nintendo game, and lyrics that criticize clueless men. "Mediocrity Rules" is the musical high point, propelled by an insatiable new wave riff. Still, its lyrics are a bit too similar in theme to "Home." The most harshness Hanna achieves here is contained in the line, "Nothing scares you like a real idea." This is lame when compared to the exemplary brashness Hanna wreaked when she wailed, "I'm so sorry that I think/ White boys/ Don't laugh/ Don't cry/ Just die!" in the early days of Bikini Kill. It's that brand of chafing fury that's absent from Desk, and not surprisingly, sorely missed.

Mostly, From the Desk of Mr. Lady comes off like sub-standard material that didn't make it on to last year's full-length. Even so, bonus material or not, Hanna has set her standard so high that there's potential for catastrophe in the event that she slips. From the Desk of Mr. Lady marks the first time in over a decade that Hanna's cursive letters don't feel like knives.

-Richard M. Juzwiak