Pitchfork

Ms. John Soda's 2002 No P. or D. was one of the few lap-pop records that wasn't straight-up teflon. Talk about a genre that produces a lot of unmemorable drivel: From the last few years, its standout records are either not really lap-pop (Octet's Cali-pop-smitten Cash and Carry Songs) or just exceptionally bad (Styrofoam's Linkin Park-smitten Nothing's Lost). But No P. or D. was different. It had happy hooks and melancholy hooks and lush quasi-acoustic instrumentation, and it sounded just as good on a sunny day as on a rainy reflective one. The German duo of Stephanie Böhm and Micha Acher (the Notwist) substituted layered melodies for stacks of blippy folderol, creating a record free of the superfluous electronic baggage and nonessential sounds this stuff often swims in.

Four years on, Ms. John Soda haven't gone less digital, even if the novelty of having a glitch-ridden beat behind a pop hook has simmered down a bit. "A Nod on Hold" coruscates with textural arpeggios, which were cool before the Postal Service abused them like chow mein does cornstarch. The song wouldn't necessarily be better or worse without such a commonplace, but its predominance in the mix suggests a few things: (1) Lack of confidence. How can anyone think one-touch chattering-machine FX are still a good idea unless trying to dress an anorexic song? The track isn't even that bad, just a little depressive, and the padding is unnecessary. (2) Growing disenchantment. "A Nod on Hold" is what I call the rise-and-shine lullaby. Standard fare for many lap-pop records, these gauzy overtures carry an air of foreboding, which makes them ideal as introductions. But they also serve as tranquilizers, drawing listeners into a dreamy, incubated headspace. "A Nod on Hold" is too tremulous to occupy this role; it leans on quavery strings where it needs a sure-footed hook. (3) A duo running low on ideas. The track would've probably missed the cut for No P. or D., a scant eight-song package whose weakest cuts were much fleshier than this; on Notes and the Like it's the opening track.

Looking a little sallow this time out, Ms. John Soda can ill-afford to wax so melancholic. "A Million Times" calls back the quavery strings, this time pushed further up in the mix against a milquetoast beat. Only Böhm's wispy, serene vocal redeems the thing from total flaccidity-- she sounds sad, but at peace. At times she seems to want to quit singing entirely, content to run off motorik verses in a blindfolded monotone. On "Scan the Ways", the album's best song, this works; over driving guitar-and-bass eighths speckled with nice-enough flourishes-- flute flits and harpsichord-sounding incandescences-- her drone is more urbane than mundane. It's no surprise her style works best when she's resigned, as opposed to downtrodden. But in lieu of No P. or D.'s deep textures, we're left with the blippy folderol. Notes and the Like is par-for-the-course lap-pop, and that could well be the point. But as someone who has long understood lap-pop to be the Switzerland of genres-- a neutral aesthetic baseplane artists must activate with things like melody and surprises-- I find that hard to understand and even harder to believe.

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