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The Fever

There seems no respite from New York's relentless insistence on musical relevance. Yes, we're aware of this dance-punk, post-funk, electro-crash thing you do so well, over and over again. Still, bands like the Fever try to add some inspired swagger to the overdone sashay.

You might've heard the catchy-as-hell club hit "Ladyfingers" on the Yes New York compilation, but this Brooklyn band's got a few more memorable ruses in mind. "Slow Club," the album's highlight, stumbles along in literal motion, with a Bauhaus-lite bass line, stuttering drums, and a sing-along chorus that manages to usurp half the Rapture's catalog. "Cold Blooded," "Artificial Heart," and "Scorpio" are filled with the dark, spastic fervor and calculated new/no wave that maintains camaraderie with the Faint. As with most bands of this ilk, it can't all be neon-lit roses, and tracks like "Nite Vision" get carried away in muddled aggression.

The Fever isn't likely to usher in the umpteenth wave of next-big-thingness, and the tired "I'm hip and from New York" act (like the promo shot that includes singer Geremy Jasper with a cigarette dangling from his mouth) doesn't add any urgency to the album. Just enjoy the jams before they burn up. -- Kiran Aditham

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