Quickspace have never been known for their instant accessibity or technical instrumental prowess. Their 1997 self-titled debut presented an incredibly sloppy band whose sometimes epic songs carried enough personality and originality to transcend their inability to hold music together. The drums were offbeat, the guitars were out of tune, and vocalists Tom Cullinan and Nina Pascale weren't going to win any awards for pitch. Precious Falling showed a much more proficient Quickspace willing to add more layers to their generally simple song structures. Sadly, the album was padded with a bunch of bizarre, experimental filler which failed to interest anyone.

On their third album, the band fronted by Th' Faith Healers' Tom Cullinan are in full form. The Death of Quickspace offers a new batch of nine of the band's trademark subtlety and inexplicably seductive melodies. Not that you'd know it from the way the record opens. "The Lobbalong Song" fades in quickly, fades out, then fades back in with uncertainty. This weirdness is followed by an unexpected jolt from Nina Pascale's heavily-distorted Cockney banshee wail. She shrieks with an intense conviction-- whatever she's yelling about, she means it.

"The Lobbalong Song" is by far the record's most abrasive moment, but by sequencing it as the opening cut, Quickspace are laying exactly who they are on the table. Initially, Pascale's aggravated cry grates, but midway through the track, the melody becomes strangely irresistable. Then, suddenly, the gentle picking of electric guitar strings introduces the album's dark highlight, "They Shoot Horse Don't They," over a naive pop drumbeat. Over seven minutes, the song works up to a frenzied climax, piling on layers of distorted guitar-pounding and howling keyboard effects.

Quickspace are out on tour right now with Yo La Tengo, and it's not hard to see why. In many respects, Quickspace are a more rhythmically-oriented Yo La Tengo. The band's melodies are always passionate and engaging, but surprisingly simple. Whether cranking out a three-and-a-half chord, angular sans-vocal screamer like "Munchers No Munchers," or the psychedelic electric slide guitar ballad "The Rose," their songs are inescapably catchy without resorting on cloying twee pop tendencies, conventional pop song structures, or even hooks at all. Yes, this is pop music, but not at all in a traditional sense.

It should be amazing that Quickspace can stretch these raw, basic songs out to over five (and sometimes ten) minutes without becoming boring, but it's not-- that's largely due to the amount of variation their songs contain. On the winding, 10+ minute "Climbing a Hill," the lyrics-- divided into two seperate vocal parts-- bounce over minor-key resignation. A few minutes later, we're thrust head-first into an elaborate and expertly delivered four-minute guitar part that switches from delicate picking and sliding to Kaplan-esque steel-scraping buzz.

The album ends somewhat strangely, with the violin-laced instrumental "Lob It" and the 30-second-long punk riff, "4." I can't say I'd have gone out like that, but then again, I'm not a talented five-piece with a history of great albums behind me. Still, a track like the standout pop ballad, "Gloriana," with its beautifully produced, thick, multi-tracked vocal harmonies, and exploding, mangled guitar would serve as the ultimate closer to any album. But the end songs, weird as they may be, are still great for what they try to accomplish, and when the disc stops spinning after its 45-minute duration, we're left with an album that finally realizes the potential that has always surrounded this band's records. I think it's only gonna get better from here.

-Ryan Schreiber