"Holy cute, Batman! There are two kids wearing our costumes on the cover of this album!"

"Yes, Boy Wonder. It does not bode well."

"Holy even-more-aggravating, Batman! Are we going to be talking through this whole review?"

"No, faithful companion. That would be too annoying, and, besides, other than my creating the 'Bat Dance,' what do we know about music?"

This record originally pissed me off to the point of irrationality. There are records that lose you so much that you'll ignore their good points. Same goes for bands. For a long time, due to Bono's preachy period, I wouldn't acknowledge that U2 had ever done anything good, but now I can be "One" with them. Likewise, I really wanted to tear Colossal Small apart, but after obligatory relistens, I must admit it has some melodic niceness here and there, and the time changes seem to work. The brothers are actually brothers, Greg and Thom, so while I can't say this about their earlier incarnations-- groups such as Colorful Calliope, Orange Kate, Lord Escalator, the Plumps, and Thumb of the Maid-- their name doesn't make me twitch. Now on to the things that do irritate me...

In honor of the way these Altadena, California-based "Englishmen" emulate Robert Pollard's singing and songwriting style, the following paragraph will be written only in words taken from the name Guided by Voices:

Voices guided by Guided by Voices. Guided by Voices voices guided voices. Voices by Guided by Voices voices. By Guided by Voices guided. Voices? Guided by Voices. By By By.

Okay, that was stupid, but I hope it brings home my point. The band cites the Soft Boys as an influence, which is probably a cool way of saying Robyn Hitchcock, but to my ear, it's a real GBV rip going on. Once Americans sing in an English accent and they're not Green Day, it's hard not to make that comparison. Perhaps the Anglo named Thom was doomed from birth, but couldn't Greg have fought the affectation? The songs are less sketchy than Pollard's outfit, and softer and folkier, with an accent on loosely strummed acoustic guitars. So if you've always wanted Pollardized (or Hitchcocked) music that's gentler, longer, and worse, this might be your disc.

From the opening track, "Harry Lion," where the "brush" of "toothbrush" is given three syllables, the Brothers seem intent on awkwardly making much of pointless things, and finessing over-clever moves for the sake of cuteness. The oh-so-eccentrically titled "Nicholas Pulse" offers the riddle, "The horse follows the face/ Does the face follow the horsie?" Well, I'm no equestrian, but to my knowledge, the horse doesn't follow the face, and I'm certain grown men shouldn't be saying "horsie." All the tempo changes and cryptic lyrics regarding a man "writing on a chalkboard in a most alarming way" add up to nothing more than three buckets of quirk. The rest of the album traffics in either hard quirk or soft quirk.

The title track gives us the musical oxymoron, a literary tool used infrequently since Cream coined "my dull surprise." Still, the song is colossally slow, generating small interest. On the epic ballad "Moleslica" (pronounced "Mole Slicer"), Thom sings, "Well, it's blow blow blow to her head/ Slice slice slice to her heart," without any word word word really indicating true human pain, but rather some fantastic battle between Lewis Carroll-type creations.

The Mole Slicer, the animals presented in "Harry Lion," and whatever creatures (they could be aliens, but I'm thinking cats-- it's hard to tell) are represented in "The Humans Will Take Care" bring me to my next gripe: why can't anyone write about being a human anymore? Have we bought our own sci-fi future-shock clap-trap? Everyone has to be a robot or a computer or a kitty. Have we really gotten so sour that we can't explore ourselves anymore? Is the only compelling emotion alienation? The fantastic detachment of escape from ourselves?

I certainly got fantastically detached as Colossal Small rolled on. "The Outsiders" perks up a bit at points, sounding like an "Avengers"-style TV show theme song. However, the perky part keeps changing back into a slow, folky vamp, and there's some truly awkward use of the tremolo peddle on the guitar solo. At least, I think that's what it is; I'm not much of a gearhead. The thing than made Tommy James' voice go in and out on "Crimson and Clover."

The Brothers explore a different direction on "Calligraphy Mouth," employing some vibraphones and round singings. Unfortunately, this song sounds like nothing other than Sir Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime." And is simply not wonderful.

"Holy closure, Batman! We're back!"

"Shut up, Robin."

-Dan Kilian