If I were allowed to give this album by New York power/noise outfit Flux Information Sciences a three-digit rating, I'd give it a 6.66. I'm tempted to reach for the hundredths place because Private/Public, as a record, is almost exactly 2/3 of the way there. It's good enough to give a taste of what the band might one day become, but not enough to satisfy completely.

I have to admit that style of Private/Public isn't my cup of tea, but I can certainly appreciate the very real heaviness Flux Information Sciences brings to the table. Industrial music should naturally contain the sound of industry, and FIS delivers here with relentless, metal-on-metal percussion throughout. Adding the weight are dense guitar riffs that are impressive both as classic riffs and as pure sound, and the fact that they're nearly always paired with a heavy metallic clanging that maximizes their impact.

But the biggest point in FIS's favor is the fact that the distorted rhythms are inspired more by tribal drumming than they are rock or techno. The future/primitive feel of the beats connects Flux Information Sciences with ideas of ritual and ceremony, which fits their debased aesthetic perfectly. It's this conceptual unity that puts these guys above by-the-numbers industrial bands like Chemlab.

The album's strengths and weaknesses are perfectly illustrated in its first two tracks. "Appealing" is a brief, a cappella goth number sung by Sabine Tucker that goes overboard with the black melodrama. It's almost fun in a way, if you can look at it as a parody of goth seriousness, but nothing about it strikes me as truly edgy or disturbing. But then comes the pounding, syncopated "Adaptech," which combines a repeating drum riff from the dawn of recorded history with a backbeat that sounds like an oil drum being pulverized with a plumber's wrench. Sure, leader Tristan Bechet's voice pretty much sticks to a single squealing tone, but he uses it as a percussion instrument and makes it work. I dig the intensity.

As there are 18 tracks on Public/Private in only 44 minutes, there are the expected instrumental interludes. Many of these, like the bleak "Demise," work well as atmospheric bridges, using an eerie organ and distorted voice to link guide the listener gently from the brutality. But too often, the music on the other side of the pass winds up limp and ineffectual, as with the slow, plodding "Love Me Love Me." Unless they're going for total sonic assault (which they do reasonably well), Flux Information Sciences seem at a bit of a loss.

My proposed 6.66 rating is also inspired in part by the obvious reason: Flux Information Sciences have a bit of the devil in them. This is a New York band with marked industrial tendencies and subject matter that deals with cheap glamour, decadence and degradation (in these respects they share some qualities with their producer Michael Gira). The CD looks like a box cover for an arty porn film, and the song titles ("World Class Fuck," "Liposuction," "Accessories") do nothing to dispel these associations. Fuck tradition. These guys deserve the Number of the Beast.

-Mark Richard-San