Pitchfork

If Pram weren't making such bizarro music with such a straight face, they may be mistaken as camp. But what Pram creates is genuinely weird. Even though there's rarely a congruent harmony to speak of, a good portion of the tracks on North Pole Radio Station couldn't be more catchy-- or freaky.

"What's that strange music?" Rosie Cuckston asks at the beginning of "Cinnabar," which, seriously, is about maggots "dreaming of becoming flies." Not only is there no irony in the question, but Cuckston's strained, untrained voice is as void of emotion as it is harmony. Add to that a Moog and theremin straight out of a cartoon waltz and you have the equivalent of an aural collaboration between David Lynch and Tim Burton: so strange and indecipherable that people don't know what to do with it... so they call it profound.

The Moog makes itself known throughout, along with a garage sale's worth of Casio samples and Bossa Nova rhythms that are warped beyond repair. There's even a Balkanized accordion moaning through "Fallen Snow," which, for all its Spaghetti Western drama, sounds like the demented stepsister to Stereolab (in other words, Captain Beefheart to Stereolab's Zappa). Then along comes "Sleepy Sweet," with its hopalong rhythm, dub feedback and morose cabaret vocals, and you can't help but sway like you're on a spliff- smoking mule riding off into the sunset.

Sure, you won't get any secrets or symbols when tuning in to North Pole Radio Station, but you won't get any bullshit either. This music is what it is, and if you can figure that out, please don't tell me.