When Jarvis Cocker implored in the mid-90's, "Let's all meet up in the year 2000," he had no idea how the world would look through his "fully grown" eyes. But then, it wasn't really necessary for his bid to his beloved Deborah; Cocker merely looked forward to a time where two players in an unrequited love could meet on more mature ground. Even so, a few years before what many would falsely come to call the dawn of the new millennium, Pulp echoed our pre-pre-triple-zero tension with the contention that the future was, indeed, some time away.

It doesn't take a Dave Barry to quip that we've only experienced slight changes in the six years that have passed since "Disco 2000" was first released. We're still yet to see the likes of food pills or personal spacecrafts, and instead, are part of a society that sits on its collective ass, inching its way toward an utter dependence on technology. In the fashion and fads department, though, we're a bit more progressive; we've moved on from groovin' 70's-style to a nearly unhealthy obsession with the future-obsessed 80's.

The Inflatable Men take their musical and stylistic cues from both of these concepts: the shortcomings of what the future was supposed to be, and the futurism-by-way-of-synth that decorated 80's pop. Of course, this translates as cheeky retro-futurism that, to function properly, must be aware of its hokey, latter-day wackiness.

And aware the Inflatable Men are. They come off as a group with an ironic case of "the s'posed ta's" on "In the Year 2000 and One," and its sideways lament of the current lack of automated kitchens, floating subway systems, and bubble jet cars. With more than a hint of sarcasm, perpetually affected vocalist Fisher describes our time as "a brave new world for every boy and girl" before bursting into the chorus rife with percolating keyboards: "Welcome to 2001/ Read or not now/ Here comes what you have become."

Though "In the Year 2000 and One" is unrivaled in its lyrical commentary of failed forecasting, the rest of the album plays host to a slew of kitschy 80's retro-futuristic throwbacks. It can be heard in the call-and-response between keyboards and vocals, and counting robot voices on "Boy Genius." "When We Were" owes much to Erasure's signature sappy/happy electroballadry, and "The Language Of" is totally Tears for Fears with its midtempo arena-stomp and fake strings.

The point is that we've heard it all before, and the Inflatable Men's retreading comes off as nothing if not unremarkable. Traces of their aforementioned influences, as well as Gary Numan, OMD, Depeche Mode, the Buggles, Devo, and INXS (especially on the "Never Tear Us Apart"-esque "Sleepy World") are digitally etched onto Machine Age Romance. The boys are adept at writing a catchy, fit pop song, but they're not inventors. And sadly, what Romance lacks in variation is never compensates for in other departments. The only track that truly shines is "Chemical Imbalance," but only because it has the record's catchiest hook.

With Fisher's vocal melodrama and the band's penchant for the sound of the new wave, it's clear that the Inflatable Men owe more to Pulp than perhaps any of their other influences. Pulp, though, already pulled off what these guys at least partially attempt with more character, style, and elegance. Where Cocker played the comedian through his lyrical wit, the Inflatable Men are content to shove cheesy keyboards down our throats. It's been six years since the last great Pulp album, Different Class, and with no new Pulp album in immediate sight, I suppose we have Machine Age Romance as a paltry substitute. Eh. Hey, Jarvis, what are you doing Sunday, baby?

-Richard M. Juzwiak