Whoever popularized the ill-conceived notion that techno is the second coming of disco obviously forgot about Chic. Nile Rodgers' aggressive repetition and vapid mantras were pumped out by sweaty individuals with physical instruments, not some Georgio Moroder type with a sequencer. Besides, snorting coke off the console of a 303 never got anyone anywhere but broke. Los Amigos Invisibles might not understand that, but you wouldn't know it from listening to their music. What does matter is that they realize there are two ways to get hips moving, and they're masters of both.

The real problem facing Arepa 3000 is that it's the second album by-- to put it bluntly-- a one-album band. Their North American debut, The New Sound of the Venezuelan Gozadera, established their sound so fully and unambiguously that there's startlingly little left to be said. And it doesn't bode well that the follow-up falls into a gimmicky futuristic theme, even if it does amusingly predict a Venezuelan space program in the year 3000 with a pastry space craft. Fortunately, this isn't expanded upon any further than with the blast-off sound effects of the album's intro, and its title track, which lyrically consists entirely of ba's.

The one failing of Los Amigos Invisibles' debut album was that they tried too hard to keep the party going as long as possible, ending up with well over an hour's worth of music and 19 tracks-- only half of which actually earned their keep. Luckily, those standouts held up the other songs pretty well and, hey, there's always the skip button. But on their second outing, it's the exact same deal: yet another hour-plus album with exactly 19 tracks. And this time, there's not enough gravy to redeem the filler.

What saves the Amigos' music from coming off as an empty exercise in retro-irony a la Beck's Midnite Vultures is that this sextet (an adjective that would befit the group even if not for its six members) emanates honest lust. Mouthpiece Julio Briceno croons, moans, and yowls his way from the stage to every groupie's mattress. For a cover of "Amor," the multilingual 1970s radio hit, Briceno holds back his libido and talks about plain ol' love for a while. But make no mistake: this is the same man I once witnessed feign masturbation with an Evian bottle, spraying it all over the front row before innocently shrugging, "Is only water."

I took Spanish in high school and don't remember any of it. Fortunately, Los Amigos Invisibles are prepared to teach me all the best dirty words and corny pick-up lines the language has to offer. And for those of you that already habla espanol, there's surely plenty here to elicit giggles. As it happens, the two song titles that give away the inside joke are also among the best on the album: "Cuchi-Cuchi" and "Masturbation Session." And if you can't get a kick out of a bunch of horny Latinos shouting those phrases in unison, what fun are you, anyway?

Ultimately, Arepa 3000 doesn't come close to hitting the g-spot of its predecessor. The band's revised sound, with processed drums and more keyboard than guitar, only brings it closer to the clichés it once merely teased and toyed it with. Instead of "Otra Vez," The New Sound's astounding drum-n-bass, Arto Lindsay-style freakout ballad, we get "El Barro," a number that disturbingly resembles Cher's "Believe" more closely than anything since that dancefloor nightmare sparked a vocoder vogue.

Goofy indulgences are all fine and good, but all gimmicks fade with time. Eventually, even these lusty Amigos will require little white pills to keep this kind of pace up. As with the disco bands of old, they're all clearly talented musicians that could certainly rock the house just as easily with hand drums and acoustics. Next time, instead of leaning on a thin faux- futuristic concept, they'd be wise to get back to basics without resorting to monotonous bossa nova grooves and Studio 54 homages.

-Al Shipley