When the mid-90s post-grunge, pre-pop implosion passed with the same painful obviousness as Corey Feldman's transition into manhood, few could have foreseen a time when mining the likes of Superdrag and Kula Shaker would be considered revolutionary or groundbreaking. Herr Schreiber and I used to ease into "120 Minutes" by pounding the hops, laughing at the Eels, and telling ourselves that someday, someone will put everything in its right place. Now the playful buoyancy of 1997s past has been usurped by a tense desperation, broken only by darting eyes and muffled scoffs when Ryan sees my hand reaching for the Electric Soft Parade.

It's surprising to see how well Holes in the Wall holds up under the weight of its own hype. The British music press almost couldn't unsticky their promos open after Ed O'Brien cited the album's guitar-driven sound as an influence on Radiohead's as-yet-untitled sixth LP. Opening the bill for NME-darlings Oasis didn't hurt them much, either. Fact is, though, that the Electric Soft Parade-- who, reportedly, added the 'Electric' modifier after being legally arraigned by a Doors cover band-- are not here to galvanize the industry. And damn, do they pop/rock while doing it.

It's true that sibling chemistry has been known to lead to an early musical fruition. Keeping in the tradition of Oasis, principle songwriters and part-time brothers Tom & Alex White share an amazing knack for melodic derivation and emphasized vocal treatments. Unfortunately for your indie cred, this time it works, thanks in no small part to the long electro-psychedelic excursions only hinted at by your favorite fey Brit-rockers.

Things begin modestly enough with the tormented sludge rock of "Start Again", immediately invoking the ghost of Suede. As the song suddenly shifts dynamic from murky grunge to a synthetic, trippy-dippy verse (replete with phaser effects and everything), we're introduced to the White Brothers' similarly charcoal-steeped vocals. Luckily for ESP, Holes in the Walls' litany of cliched lyrical sentiments falls to the wayside of Chris Hughes' heart-wrenching production, which wraps even the most unforgivable of lines ("You never took the time to look at what you've got/ And all the times you fell/ I was there to pick you up") in inviting and, occasionally, inventive sonic textures. Elsewhere, on the disc's title track, the group turn in their token attempt at balladry, albeit with more muscle than a whole legion of 'next Radioheads'.

But the album's real highlight is the schizophrenic "Silent to the Dark", a nine-minute jam that looms over the band's other accomplishments and finds the group indulging in all manner of studio trickery. The song begins, ingenuously enough, as an atypical exercise in teen angst (read: emo) shortly before bursting into a Specter-induced wall of sound faintly reminiscent of Godspeed You Black Emperor!'s Lift Your Skinny Fists. As whirring synths proffer the white noise a sense of foundation, bits of song begin to reestablish themselves before the band fully commits to reprising the chorus once more.

So, in between the instrumental intelligence and the lyrical negligence, what are you left with? Well, with Holes in the Walls, the Electric Soft Parade have crafted a debut that, despite its often forced accessibility, aches with potential unrealized. And, while Electric Soft Parade is still yet to write a song that would justify such a pretentious bandname, it's comforting to know that they've got the chops to perhaps pull it off someday.

-Kevin Adickes, November 13th, 2002