Now here's a band name to conjure fear and dread. Did the marketing department at K-Tel have anything to do with this space age bachelor pad trip-hop? Or is it some in- joke between the WFMU program director and the station's listeners designed to kill off the wave of lounge music that über- hip New York station released on a world once forgetful of the dubious talents of Martin Denny and Yma Sumac?

The insert copy doesn't go out of its way to disabuse me of my caution. There's a list of thank yous, along with the name of the Munich studio where Moodorama toiled to produce Basement Music. So, I tentatively pressed play and cast my fate to the winds.

Or to the swooshes, as the case may be. Because that's how Basement Music begins. Now, I'm not partial to ambient swooshes. Especially not on an album released in 1999. Swooshes are in the same category as sounds of running water (be they rivers, baths, oceans, rainfall down a rusty sluice pipe, etc.)-– they were acceptable when Future Sound of London used them on Life Forms or when the Orb broadened horizons with Adventures Beyond the Ultraworld. But they're not acceptable now. I encourage you all, for the health of our musical heritage, to implement a no- swoosh policy forthwith. Slightly daunted, I nonetheless proceeded onwards into the second track.

Moodorama do have, I'm pleased to report, a slight edge, albeit one that you could miss unless you listened attentively. "Darkness," the track that follows the swooshes, perfectly exemplifies this secluded edge. Upon first listen, the track is pretty run- of- the- mill trip-hop. The regulation beats are all present and correct; the synth strings add just the right plaintive quality. And, Moodorama's vocalist, Kerstin Huber delivers her lyrics in ethereal detachment, exactly as trip-hop standards mandate. But what pulls me back to "Darkness" is the tune. The chorus is most unsettling. Huber sings, "All I really want is you" (which in no way qualifies for any awards), but the melody line is so nagging that it seems believable that she seeks solace in darkness. Unfortuantely, we have to skip another exceedingly lengthy piece of aimless analog knob- twiddling before Moodorama really capitalizes on their success.

On "Dark Sun," Huber again delivers the goods, coming off like a white- winged, harp- bearing Nico. The song tells of a freshly- deceased girl being disenchanted with the reality of a Christian life after death, and having only the contemplation of God to alleviate her boredom. She longs for a release she'll never achieve: "Dark sun, won't see you tomorrow/ Tomorrow's gone/ Swallowed by sorrow." The other members of the band accompany Huber with the thinnest of accompaniments-- tablas, reversed cymbals and a string section every bit as rarified as the upper atmosphere where Huber sits in dejection.

But by the time Huber is revived on "Sneaky Fingertips," her magic's all spent and the accompaniment reflects this. The song is fleshed out with obtrusive FM rock guitar chords and-- in contrast to "Dark Sun"-- some pretty ham- fisted percussion. Sadly, this sets the tone for the remainder of the album. The title track is indistinguishable from "5 A.M." or "Mindless Moments." Each one is a slow- motion and labored trip-hop groove in search of purpose. Serviceable background music, I suppose, but why would anyone want to make wallpaper music? Do Moodorama really want to provide the soundtrack for twenty- something dinner parties? I mean, I suppose "5 A.M." would be an inoffensive accompaniment to pesto and rotini, and "Jazz Tip" should fit a pepperoni pizza Hot Pockets party effectively enough, but as a sound, it remains closer to Muzak than music.

Lately, I've heard a ton of albums that sound like this. The excellent ones include Beanfield's eponymous release and the crucial Future Sounds of Jazz releases from Germany's Compost label. Each of these albums distinguishes itself by exploring twisted, funky beats, cool jazz stylings, and a genuine mastery of studio equipment. And then there are the truly awful ones. In the mid- point of this continuum, Moodorama are more often than not grasping for mediocrity, though, as "Darkness" and "Dark Sun" prove, they can be capable of enchantment. Unfortunately, Basement Music is less of a challenge to the laziness lauded by hipper- than- thou loungeheads. Rather, it's a saddening affirmation of it.

-Paul Cooper