There comes a time, not so very often, when the planets are aligned just right, the moon fits snugly into Uranus, the Earth's poles shift, and we music critics-- dirty and unwashed folks that we are-- get to do the fantastic: we get to name our own little sub-genre. It doesn't happen to everyone, but to the lucky few who get to chase down and label a style of music, then send it back into the wild over a public forum, the results can be fantastic. It happened to the guy who first called Mudhoney "grunge," and to the clever chap who coined the phrase "trip-hop." (Both of them now own their own pools and will star in new sitcoms on the WB next year).

Although we may still scoff at these labels, the fact is that we still use them, so the joke's on us. Sure, branding a particular band's sound with a catchy, meaningless tag line that sits atop a Billboard chart may torch one's professional integrity like an oily rag, but it's also a way of insuring one's immortality. So, here I am, ready to swan-dive headfirst into mediocrity by presenting my very own sub-genre. Pitchfork lovers, prepare for the wonders of Sci-rock (™®©), and the world's first sci-rockers, the Webb Brothers.

The Webb Brothers are two super talented, ultra-hip guys who have shady pasts but bright futures, thanks to their startling new album, Beyond the Biosphere. The brothers' christen names are Justin and, uh... Christian, and they're the offspring of legendary songwriter Jimmy Webb, the man behind "Wichita Lineman." But don't let that put you off. It's rare that any musical act-- even one with a hit-making heritage to uphold-- makes an album that's as vivid, smart and interesting as this. On Beyond the Biosphere, the Webb Brothers create a clever mixture of the sonic past and the sonic future, with none of the shitty sonic present to drag it down. Blending rock music with rocket fuel, Beyond the Biosphere is pure sci-rock all the way.

But my genre, like all others, is based solely on the music's surface features. It's based on album cover art and the fact that the Webb Brothers have managed to work the word "biosphere" into a good song. If anything, the Webb Brothers' sound is as much heart as it is brain, and built more on emotion than science. See, Biosphere is a concept album with a mighty thin concept. Specifically, it's the story of a man's attempt to escape a despotic biosphere colony with the girl he loves. But that's where all the typical concept album bullshit stops. Instead of painting themselves into a corner by sticking to what could have been a severely cramped and boring story line, the Webb Brothers take the road less traveled and instead focus on the story as a metaphor, giving themselves the freedom to write songs about situations that no "Aliens" film could ever tackle.

Beyond the Biosphere discards the dime-store sci-fi novel clichés very early on, if it touches them at all, by dealing with all of the feelings that could be associated with the album's story (the need for freedom, the hardships of love, etc.), with the plot recurring only as a vague backdrop. As the record progresses through its scant 32-minute running time, even the story itself is dropped. By the time the last track fires up, the songs have become completely universal, and all the more effective for it. If Biosphere was sci-fi, it would be "2001: A Space Odyssey" way before it'd be "Starship Troopers."

Musically, this record sounds a lot like a dream-- the kind of wonderful, splendidly vivid dream that reminds you how much the real world sucks. All haunting melodies, heartbroken lyrics and jagged rock guitars, Biosphere is a prime example of what makes good rock music. Instead of simply hijacking the old indie rock songwriting formulas the way many of their contemporaries do, the Webb Brothers instead start off with "mainstream" rock and, after stripping away the bullshit, build on it the way the first indie rock bands did.

One bonus for the Webb Brothers is that they're one of the few acts currently making both sensitive mope music and driving, energetic rock songs with equal power. Most of the album leans towards mope, but that works out just fine-- the Webb Brothers scout through the already picked-over used bin of sad song topics and come up with plenty of snazzy new duds to wear. One of the song's best slow-dance tunes, "Got No Worries," employs the standard slow song staples-- namely soft, ethereal vocals laid on top of scarcely-played electric guitars-- but it uses them well, making a song that's tear-jerking but not sappy or insulting.

"The Filth of It All" is one of the most inspired depression songs I've heard in a long time, and it's not even about a girl. Instead, it's about how threatening the world looks through an obsessive compulsive's eyes. The end result is eerie, bone-chilling, and perfectly beautiful. On the other end of things, "Cold Fingers," one of the album's standouts, is one minute and 45 seconds of inspired rock heaven. With its raging, fuzzy guitars, drums that pound like a sprinting elephant, and sore-throat vocals, "Cold Fingers" is full of electricity, sounding like Superdrag going apeshit on a Guided By Voices cover.

Any lazy comparison isn't going to do much to describe the Webb Brothers' sound. But it's necessary to reference old bands or songs to get a feel for this music, because Beyond the Biosphere is simply incompatible with the caveman music scene that rules the roost these days. As stark and as beautiful as space itself, Beyond the Biosphere needs its own genre-- its new label. It needs to be called Sci-rock. And when twenty more sci bands have record deals next year, Wal-Mart establishes a separate sci section in its electronic department, and all the artists start dismissing sci as "just another label" during MTV interviews, you can all thank me.

-Steven Byrd