It's a rare occurrence indeed that listening to a record actually causes me physical pain. I'm capable of putting on a stoic smile when confronted with friends' Dave Matthews records. Korn and Limp Bizkit can induce a twinge, nothing more. But listening to 12 Rods' newest release makes me hurt. Bad. Separation Anxieties is the ear infection that antibiotics can't cure fast enough. It's the headache that half a bottle of aspirin just won't alleviate. It's the splinter you can't pull out of your foot without the assistance of heavy-gauge needles or sufficiently pointy tweezers. This record is acid reflux, gastroenteritis, and dysentery all rolled into one.

But the stomach-turning pain this record causes me doesn't stem from any particularly grating noise or gut-wrenchingly awful sonic mishap to be found on the record. Rather, it comes from the knowledge that a band I once considered to be one of the absolute greatest bands in modern music could produce a record that sounds so bad. What's even more perplexing is that the same band could call such an obviously terrible-sounding record "the record we wanted to make and that sounds like us."

12 Rods' 1998 debut LP, Split Personalities, rocked ass from here to Bangladesh by showcasing a band at peak form. Ryan Olcott's robotic whine, Christopher McGuire's maniacally inventive drumming, and Olcott brother Ev's keyboard talents and studio noodling comprised a band that had finally figured out how to translate its unique elements into a well-oiled machine. The record sounded nothing short of perfect. Every chord, every melody, every synthetic bleep, every pathetically self-deprecating word Olcott spat out-– it all fit together just right. 12 Rods were a band who not only played great songs, but knew how to listen to their own sound and refine it to the point of absolute perfection. That's why this record comes as such a shock.

Separation Anxieties' opening track, "Kaboom," begins with a stupid, but not overly offensive barrage of gratuitously poppy guitars, drums, and synth bursts. But any hopes for a salvageable song are instantly shattered when the sound dies down and Ryan Olcott shouts "Sex!/ It's a regular practice," just in time for a hokey, and completely out-of-place power- chord progression that simply sounds wrong.

This is followed by "What Has Happened," which may very well be the album's worst. Over yet another generic power-chord progression, Olcott whines: "My ex thinks she's so tough/ She flicks her cigarettes before she puffs/ I think she's a man when she wears Adidas/ She lost her libido then dumped me for a punk/ Who's in a band, sounds like Korn/ But pretentiously aggressive/ Not too impressive." Yow. As the song segues into the marginally less offensive chorus of "What has happened?/ What has happened to the one that I love," the listener's sentiment mirror's Olcott's almost exactly. After only the second song, almost all hope is lost, replaced only by a sickening sense of disappointment and bewilderment.

Perhaps the most frustrating aspect of Separation Anxieties is the fact that every time it seems like the guys might stumble upon a patch of decency, it all goes awry. "Astrogimp" may be the album's most musically tolerable song, but a few awful chord changes and some of the worst lyrics you may ever be exposed to taint the song's relative virtue. Two less offensive tracks, "I Think I'm Flying" and "Your Secret's Safe With Me," are followed by the album's single most intolerable moment, the distressingly horrid jack-in-the-box and quivering falsetto introduction to "Marionette," a song with a chorus consisting of-– you guessed it-- another overused, run-of-the-mill chord progression.

Since I bought Separation Anxieties over a week ago, I've been attempting to convince myself that the alarming decline in quality from the last record is not the fault of 12 Rods themselves-- or rather Ev and Ryan, the only two remaining members of the "new" incarnation of 12 Rods. It's easy to blame producer Todd Rundgren, whose production work with Hall and Oates is eclipsed only by his vocal arrangements for Celine Dion. Certainly, the man had his day in 1987 with XTC's Skylarking, but his insipid overproduction on this album is typical of his recent efforts.

Another easy way out is to blame the record company. Some of the material on Gay? and Split Personalities had been around for a while-– maybe V2 forced the band into releasing a record full of material the band wasn't comfortable with. They did title the last song on their own record "Glad That It's Over."

But no matter whose fault it is, Separation Anxieties is a huge disappointment. Especially considering the fact that I've patiently waited for this record to be released for the better part of a year. I marked its release date on my calendar. I bought it the day it came out. I was expecting an album in the spirit of Gay? and Split Personalities-– a record that would instantly cement a place among my favorites. Obviously, it didn't happen like that.

It saddens me that this record barely warrants a 2.0. Nothing would have made me happier than to issue my first rating above a 9.5 to one of my absolute favorite bands. But on the plus side, I can now throw Separation Anxieties on the fire and spend the next couple of months convincing myself that it was all a bad dream, and that 12 Rods are still one of the greatest bands in the world.

-Matt LeMay