Pitchfork

Being faced with the unattainability of Nina Persson's smoldering good looks is enough to send an adolescent into a stomach-wrenching depression of unrequited love, dejection and self-loathing. A descent into an abyss of Leonard Cohen, The Smiths and penning terrible poetry is the only refuge against the taunting pop-perfection embodied in this cute Swedish chanteuse. You'd sweep your cumbersome, floppy fringe to one side in disbelief if someone told you what a tortured existence the one-time queen of bubbly European indie-pop really leads. And a listen to The Cardigans' latest record in all its po-faced bitterness will have you scratching your head in confusion at the seeming paradox of the polished direction the rest of the band have taken contrasted with Persson's world-weary laments.

Peter Svensson and Magnus Sveningsson formed The Cardigans back in 1993, enlisting untrained vocalist Nina Persson after playing hardcore for years-- inspired by a joint passion for heavy-metal music. Long Gone Before Daylight shows that classic rock runs in their blood, despite an inauguration of kitschy indie releases including 1995's acclaimed Life. The follow-ups-- 1996's First Band on the Moon and 1998's Gran Turismo-- showed attitude and poise respectively, but this new album is less experimental musically. The "woah-oh-oh-oh"'s and solid opening riff of "A Good Horse" recall 80s soft-rock a la Jon Bon Jovi as Persson's voice cracks, layering the hyperbole thus: "These are the promises I can keep/ To live like I must/ And ride with the dust in my face/ In Grace." Equally anthemic and overstated is the gratuitous reverb and echoes that saturate the epitomic pop of "You're the Storm".

Perhaps the 2003 A-Camp project with Sparklehorse frontman Mark Linkous was supposed to be a kind of misery summer-camp for Persson to vent her unlucky-in-love frustrations. Despite those murkier exercises, this release sees The Cardigans trawling through lost-love, damaging relationships and substance abuse. With these downbeat themes, it's hardly surprising that several tracks bear a New Country-esque twang as on the opener "Communication". The trebly guitar riffing and thin strings combine with soaring harmonies to position the track closer to Nashville than Jonkoping, Sweden. In "Please Sister", when Persson wails, "Oh, sweet mama, please just send me a man," is that a Tennessee drawl stretching "man" through several syllables?

It has long been the business of the most mainstream pop to enlist several maxims to connect with an audience where more "serious" artists might induce more original musings. The Cardigans have a respectable history of insightful songwriting which excuses the clichéd concerns here as perhaps pop-revision or at least a knowing tribute. "For What It's Worth" and "Couldn't Care Less" are rife with hooks and juxtapositions straight out of Stock, Aitken & Waterman's hit factory, while retaining a bitter, mature edge that separates the Swedish five-piece from less substantial popsters. Persson's singing departs from her contained and clear intonation to hint at cute and rough in turn, while never testing her range or ability. The production also takes few risks, keeping the instrumentation tight and compressing and polishing the mix almost oppressively. Where the personality of the immensely talented band used to vibrate with energy, here they too often languish complacently in a radio-friendly sibilance.

That this is the least idiosyncratic sound they have achieved is at odds with some of the darker musing in Persson's lyrics. The record's best track, "And Then You Kissed Me", treads the by-now-familiar bittersweet relationship ponderings that constitute the bulk of this record's concerns. However, amidst sharp observations and clever wordplay, there are darker implications to lines like, "Blue blue, black and blue/ Red blood sticks like glue/ True love is cruel love." "Feathers and Down" seems to entail alcoholism whereas "the little holes in your veins" ("Communication") could be interpreted to allude to stronger poisons.

The Cardigans are an entirely different band from their initiation, and perhaps this is the way it should be. Desire to explore new territories gives greater satisfaction and a constant attempt to defy expectations usually wrings some new invention from an aging band. Lucky U.S. purchasers get hold the bonus tracks "Hold Me" and "If There Is a Chance", as well as the limited edition DVD of the videos for "For What It's Worth" and "You're the Storm". The European and more notably Japanese audiences do not collect these goodies. As these are audiences already well and truly won over this could be seen cynically as a subtle bribe, but one glance at the lovely Nina and you'll forgive the backhander.

Seemingly unwilling to sever its pretty head-- infected with melancholy as it is-- the body of the band twitches unfettered with their slickest and most formulaic pop constructions to date. It's unfortunate that honing and polishing a certain pop style to perfection has squeezed some of the life from the group. There's nothing so catchy as 1996's hit single "Lovefool" here, nor is there anything as pretty and wry as Life's opener, "Carnival"-- just a collection of solid, personal pop songs, no more.