Pitchfork

They're perfect-- maybe too perfect. It's as if Ikara Colt ran down a checklist from the back of the NME on how to be a British punk band: They met at art school, they dress sharp, and they sound glum. They crib from the best post-punk and noise-rock, and every track on their debut gets a perfect score for pop songform and speedy hook delivery. They're a hit in Britain, and if they become chic enough, one of them might land a date with Kelly Osbourne.

So what's wrong with them, aside from the fact I could pack up their album in a single paragraph? Ikara Colt are the latest straight-up decent punk act to get shipped across the pond, and they're a genuine example of "authentic rock": Distorted guitars, curt lyrics and a pummeling rhythm section, funneled into concise, riffy singles. Even the recording sounds just as it should, lo-fi but clear, raw but just short of spastic.

Chat and Business is undeniably solid, but we don't give high scores for just doing the job, and the album has shortcomings. At the top of the list, it doesn't have much personality. You'll have to forgive me; I've never seen the band live, watched them on a talk show or read about their sex lives in a British newspaper. For all I know, they could be a font of charisma back where they come from. I only have the album to work with, and it's dangerously familiar. It's derivative, and too easily defined by the "recommended if you like" list it invites.

Vocalist Paul Resende is both a strength and a shortcoming. You'll recognize his style from the work of Mark E. Smith and many others, and he has the chops to get the job done; he has a masculine scream, and the right voice for shout-singing. But the conviction sounds calculated: When he spits out the lyric "chat and business," he drips contempt, but I don't sense that he hates chat or business any more than most people. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he has a buddy who really despises chat and business, and Resende's just falling in line.

The music also falls in line, between Sonic Youth and The Fall, but at least they do it well. If nothing else, the band is tight and energetic. Jon Ball's basslines throb and flail, and guitarist Claire Ingram has both the riffs and the noise. The opener, "One Note", rages harder and sprays more saliva than anything that follows; Ingram engrossingly circles around slower, drone-inflected tracks like "City of Glass", but the short blast-off chorus on "Sink Venice" makes it the stand-out track. For some variety, Ikara Colt plug a drum machine into a couple of tracks, but this is purely cosmetic. They've used electronic sounds more boldly elsewhere-- for example, the seedy remake of this album's "May B 1 Day" on their Basic Instruction EP-- but on Chat and Business they tip-toe around them without taking any risks. The novelty's welcome, but this is still a guitar band: Ikara Colt are strongest when Ingram's in charge.

Chat and Business won't bring you down, nor will it kick your ass. It's the kind of album that's never better than its last single, but my complaints will sound like stodgy nit-picking if you go nuts for the guitars. This album has everything you could want from a modern art-punk band: Next time, they should give us even more.