Pitchfork

As Fog, Andrew Broder's music sits at the crossroads of electro-pop, turntablism, found-sound collage, and indie-folk, and seems locked in a tug-of-war between clarity and deconstruction. Adding to this sonic tension is Broder's gentle and genial voice: It projects a tenderness absent from most collage-based music, which is typically either instrumental or features anesthetized vocals as a simplistic trope for modernity and alienation.

Those contradictions played a major role in the success of Fog's sprawling but almost brutally minimal Ether Teeth. It's a shame then that 10th Avenue Freakout pulls away from this blankness, thereby muting the effects of its incandescent peaks. Here Broder is breaking with obscurantism and moving toward catchy Postal Service-like song structures, but although the spacious, detailed production is still topnotch, the record suffers because Broder doesn't fully embrace his pop impulses.

"Hummer"-- the title track to Fog's 2004 EP-- recurs and is a template for this album. Over plodding drums and a clipped choral sample, Broder intones a melodically tedious verse that gives way to pristine, perfectly phrased falsetto harmonies. The off-kilter drums, patchy organs, and faltering vocal melody of "Can You Believe It?" evoke an electro-pop Neutral Milk Hotel-- especially the chirpy brass near its finale-- and the svelte, suburbanly sexy whirr of "We're Winning" dips into some cheeky cultural criticism: "Jesus Christ is my American Idol/ He's the brand new funky president." And "The Rabbit" returns to Ether Teeth's sharply drawn contrasts, surging and collapsing with counterintuitive élan.

If the whole album were this charming, it'd be an unqualified success, but too many songs proceed from point A to B with little variation or depth. Those tracks seem to equivocate between the collagist Fog and the pop Fog, reconciling their tensions instead of exploiting them. And so despite being peppered with luminosity, 10th Avenue Freakout is too often dragged down by aural wallpaper-- stretches of anonymity with few distinctive moments.

"