Pitchfork

Secaucus is one of those albums that's bursting at the seams, loaded with so much goodness that you can't fully appreciate it until you've listened to it several times. Once you're past that hurdle, it's tastier than chocolate-covered potato chips and nowhere near as fattening.

Things kick off with the skittering "Yellow Number Three", which sounds like Wire coming off of its spool in a big fucking hurry. The empty spool then drops to the floor and gets an XTC push across the floor, giving birth to "Built in Girls". The spool tumbles outside and is run over by a drunken, testosterone-fueled Superchunk with "Surprise, Honeycomb" plates. And so on.

One song begets another with a completely different influences. I also hear echoes of The Beach Boys, Robyn Hitchcock, Thinking Fellers, and anybody who has ever yearned to pick up a glockenspeil. This album gets thicker and juicer every time you toss it in the CD player. Warp speed, baby.