It's amazing the difference one little hyphen can make. Consider: Alsace-Lorraine is a region in France, lying west of the Rhine on the German border. The oft-disputed region has changed hands dozens of times over the centuries and is home to one of the most colossal military failures of the 20th Century-- the Maginot Line, an imposing series of defenses intended to guard France's frontier from any German advance. Unfortunately for the French military, in 1939 the Germans had no qualms about simply conquering Belgium and going around the Maginot Line, rendering it useless.

But take away that hyphen and you have Alsace Lorraine, a trio of Chicagoans who make pleasant, but ultimately bland pop music with a slight European affectation. The band's songs are cut roughly from the same mold as those of Stephin Merritt-- unfortunately for Alsace Lorraine, though, it seems as though Merritt hogged all of the memorable melodies for himself. As a result, the 16 songs on Through Small Windows pass by like a single 40-minute blur of meandering, atmospheric pop. In this instance, atmospheric is not a compliment.

Part of the problem may lie in the fact that Caitlin Brice simply doesn't make for a convincing frontwoman-- her voice is too wispy to ever come across as commanding, and the words she sings too often get lost in the echoing background provided by Hewson Chen (also a member of Vitesse) and Paul Francke. The band's formula instantly brings to mind Saint Etienne comparisons, and those comparisons hold up to a point; however, any Saint Etienne album will offer more variety and interest than this one.

Through Small Windows opens with "You Are Like Charles Lindbergh to Me," though you'd be hard pressed to differentiate it from much of what follows. Indeed, often the most interesting aspect of the songs are the titles-- for instance, "Name Etched in Homeroom Chair" and "Alex Runs the World" look promising, but the loosely strummed guitars buried low in the mix and textured, reverb-drenched synths don't really do much to back up Brice as she attempts to convey the lyrics.

"Chalk Marks on the Ground" manages to distinguish itself better than most of the songs here, offering a more solid vocal hook than usual and a slightly more upbeat programmed drum rhythm, but the band's overarchingly flaccid music doesn't do anything to help drive the writing home. The lyrics look okay on paper, too, with passages like, "A heart is dead/ Chalk marks are on the ground/ When they rolled away the stone to the tomb/ Nobody was found," fleshing out the story of a misfit rather nicely.

"Dreams I Can't Control," the band's first recording, with vocalist Ruth Welte, also benefits from a slightly different approach, though it's actually difficult to tell Welte's voice from Brice's without knowing about the difference first. The trembling synths and mid-tempo Moby beat rather unfortunately conjure images of Lexuses travelling across White Sands during prime-time more than they recall the teenage heartbreak Welte sings about. Note to Darla marketing staff: get on the phone to Toyota.

Further strengthening the Stephin Merritt comparison is "Though I've Never Seen You," which sounds so much like something from the Magnetic Fields' Holiday that I keep expecting Merritt to start singing, "You're the trouble I've been looking for," at any second. It's followed by the album's closer, "The Labour Day Parade," though, an instrumental with a slightly dubby feel that ranks as one of the groups' most interesting offerings, even if it can't quite hold my attention all the way through.

When the laser slides back across its track and the disc stops spinning, nothing really lingers, except perhaps for the somewhat gauzy feeling induced by the synthesizers. Through Small Windows proves so utterly innocuous that it's hard to imagine anyone having any sort of opinion about it one way or another. In the future, Alsace Lorraine could use a little more Maginot Line in their sound-- something prickly or at least a little challenging to latch on to. For now, their music is the rough equivalent of leaving your Corn Flakes in the milk for too long, and these flakes have turned into one big lump of mush. Sure, you could eat it, but why would you want to?

-Joe Tangari, January 15th, 2002