"They" say you can't judge a book by its cover. You know who "They" are-- book critics. Are you really going to listen to those bastards? They're just in the business for the press junkets and free bookmarks shaped like gavels, giant squid, abducted babies, and other subjects of current bestsellers. But you can judge a book by its cover! A man with a beard swings from a helicopter shooting medieval knights-- probably not a good book. "By Harmony Korine"-- probably not a good book.

Likewise, you can judge an album by its cover. Legendary rock critics Lester Bangs and Richard Meltzer admit to reviewing albums without a single listen. We at Pitchfork afford albums the luxury of being listened to, naturally. But still, after all this listening, as we sit before our keypads, we notice that, in most cases, all the clues to the album's quality had laid hidden in the packaging. With training, a critic can excavate a review by merely brushing the dust from the milky shards of information that poke through the soil of artwork and liner notes. Enon's Believo serves as an adequate example. Perusing the band's "thank you" list is convincing enough to warrant immediate purchase of this sparkly pop gem.

"Enon would like to thank: Les Savy Fav..."

Right off the bat, Enon thanks their closest musical brethren. Both Les Savy Fav and Enon hammer intelligent art-pop that juices familiar nuggets into fresh shakes. Les Savy Fav bark awkward winning slogans over zealous future-punk.

"...Jenny Steube..."

In Danish, "steube" means "very similar, yet opposite in one way," and "jenny steube" translates as "vice versa." Thus, by thanking Jenny Steube, coincidentally named after this Danish phrase, Enon specify their relation to Les Savy Fav. Les Savy Fav rule in the live environment, but their albums have yet to capture the dazzle that nearly frightens audience members, in that fun rollercoaster frightening way. Enon, on the other hand, have mastered the studio.

"...Robin Taylor..."

Robin shares a surname with tragically departed Brainiac singer Timmy. Enon mastermind John Schmersal played guitar for the greatly missed Brainiac, and his presence generated the obvious creative leap from the Pixies-ish Smack Bunny Baby to the facemelt of Bonsai Superstar. Believo is an obvious sonic continuation from Brainiac's final release, the Electro Shock for President EP. The electronics-drenched, subdued pop of "Flash Ram" echoes in the whistle-along "Get the Letter Out" and the organ-driven "Come Into." Enon are also less afraid than Brainiac of venturing into simple pleasure and sheep's-clothing accessibility. Yet digital funk like "Biofeedback" carries the baton from Brainiac's latefound obsession with guitarless rock, like on Electro-Shock's "The Turnover." If anything, Enon are dipped deeper in silicon chips and flossed-out with discovered sounds.

"...Mendelsohn Electronics..."

Ah, yes. That would explain it.

"...GvsB..."

Girls Against Boys' Eli Janney connected the wires from Brainiac's brain to the studio. Enon's bass-heavy opening track, "Rubber Car," takes GvsB's abstract sex-rock to new depths. The double bass noir of "Cruel" one-ups New Wet Kojak in the rain-slicked, red-lit cocktail lounge soundtrack department. The crackling in its background could be tube television static or fat taxi tires splashing through puddles.

"...Rick Rubin..."

This hints at the fist-pumping rock factor. As Rick Rubin had his hand in lots of hip-hop, so, too, does the title track pop along on wild junkyard funk. "Conjugate the Verbs" breaks into blissful riffs after a lovely interludes. "Rubber Car" thrusts robotic hips like Beck choreographing blacksmiths in an Audi plant. For Believo! brushes new textures against your ears. The production sounds of an ambiguous fidelity. Although lo-fi techiques and tools are utilized, they're piled in wanton abundance. In concert, Enon play from beaten antique suitcases crammed with jury-rigged appliances such as samplers, battery powered turntables, and chintzy Casios.

"...Drummer's World..."

Much of this invention comes from the manic mind of Rick Lee, former percussionist for Skeleton Key and Butter 08, a man who builds kits from wagons and hubcaps. His garbage-drumming is heard throughout Believo. "For the Sum of It" tumbles along cartoon jungle jazz breaks. The result of these three wonderfully demented minds blossoms into surreal structures. Although the molds are familiar, the filling certainly isn't. Much like a brick house made of ham. A house made of ham bricks.

"...Debbie Hambrick..."

"...D8N OH10..."

Who would have thought this little city off I-75 could play to womb to such essential pop? For an much as Enon obviously owes to Brainiac, there is equally as much Breeders powerglee and Guided by Voices two-minute hook factory. What's delightfully exciting is not so much the overwhelming success of this debut, but the notion that Enon still squiggle in their larval state. Anxiously await the moth.

-Brent DiCrescenzo