In literary terms, a chandelier often symbolizes severe degrees of fragility and instability that, within a given locale, have the dramatic potential to lead to a shattering emotional or social event, a moment when, perhaps even literally-- as in The Phantom of the Opera-- everything falls apart. This, of course, is in addition to the chandelier's obvious signification of wealth, ostentation, and grandiosity, which goes hand-in-hand with its dramatic potential, as any fan of the 19th century Victorian novel will tell you.

Well, that's the academic version, at least. May I remind you, one can also swing from chandeliers. Not that Peter Schmidt, the man hiding behind the Legendary Crystal Chandelier, would necessarily want to do something like that. The album is called Beyond Indifference, after all, and its cover art is a bland dot-matrix haze. It doesn't exactly beg you to pop open a bottle of bubbly and swing from the rafters. But it's also not as much of bummer as one might expect.

Let me explain. The Legendary Crystal Chandelier is essentially Peter Schmidt, who recently played guitar in the New Year with former members of Bedhead. But Beyond Indifference by no means sounds like a solo album. Credit is due to co-producer James Henderson, who also acted as musical everyman, and drummer John Dufilho, who gives the album its bulk on a number of tracks. However, these are all Schmidt's compositions.

And lyrically, yes, he is painfully indifferent. So it's no surprise, then, that a handful of these songs recall such uplifting acts as the Magnetic Fields and Depeche Mode. On the title track, for instance, Schmidt even sings like Stephen Merritt, all low and bored. But there's also a slight British quaver (is this an epidemic or what?): "So spare me all the details/ I've read it already in Braille/ Quit telling me things that I knew/ If you don't love me I can't love you." Add thrift-store percussion and an old Casio and what do you get? An irritating outtake from 69 Love Songs.

Schmidt's 80's fetishism is equally frustrating. "Everybody is Happy" exhibits a swagger, both vocally and musically, that reminds me of Modern English. "1933" defies its date by setting a Romeo story to Music for the Masses-era Depeche Mode. And "Temporary Words" sounds like a Morrissey piano ballad with nothing to say. Which is to say, it sounds like a Morrissey piano ballad.

But when Schmidt reaches further back into the history of British music and melds it with contemporary sensibilities, he succeeds tremendously. "People I Know," arguably the best track here, is the Kinks seen through one of the few decent power-pop bands left in this world. It's all twirling guitars, exasperation, chugging chords, and tangible bounce. You know, good pop! "A Plan" is not far behind, a meld of British rock and the kind of psychedelia the Verve attempted before their demise. "Million Miserable People," meanwhile, returns to the Kinks, but to their musically lighter side, as witnessed on Village Green Preservation Society.

There's even a song with na-na-na's and a cellphone chirp that manages to not to induce suicide. Why? Because the pop is so damn good it hurts, and may even make you bleed and bring you to tears... if you're being beaten with a horsewhip at the same time. In other words, the Legendary Crystal Chandelier sounds best when they're before indifference, gleefully swinging from the rafters. When they're Beyond Indifference, I'd rather be a marriage counselor for Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet than listen to what they have to say.

-Ryan Kearney