Pitchfork

No collection of songs this year does stupid smarter than Professor Murder's Rides the Subway. The brevity of the thing proves it. Everyone knows EPs are better than albums. TV on the Radio will probably go on to release 14 masterpieces but never top Young Liars. It's simple: The music you don't make is only as good as the music you do, never worse. The greatest song ever > the greatest album ever. I didn't make the rules.

Rides the Subway starts with concussive locked-elbow drumming and someone yelling, "That's right, we came to party," over West Coast G-rap synth squiggles. It ends 15 minutes later in dreamy ocarina echoes, the urge to go bananas supplanted somewhere along by the pull of reflection. I love music that covers big ground in small time without feeling rushed or overambitious. It's like the Star Trek fantasy of traversing the Universe on button's push.

Ironists dig campy pop because they think it's stupid fun, but brainless more accurately describes it. The fun comes not from thinking stupidly but from not thinking at all. This NYC quartet does plenty of thinking, primarily about how to have fun, which is a stupid way to use a real brain and a great way to use a musical one. "Champion" lays into a totally discombobulated groove, rim clicks slipping in and out of phase, someone (probably the frontman) playing sloppy frontman tambourine, the actual drummer pounding quarter notes with leaden feet. There's skill involved, don't doubt it-- these boys got their anti-finesse down pat. The beat sweats but never drags, bassdrops like falling cinder blocks. For a song that's basically all rhythm-- and stiff, juddery rhythm at that-- the band still churn up huge atmosphere, using synths to evoke sputtering computers.

Despite the rhythm-heavy opener, Professor Murder aren't a drum circle or conga line. To wit, "The Mountain" foregrounds the band's melodic component: two bassists and, here, a purple-faced melodica blower. Bullhorn-shouted lines like, "50 dollar check, KRS-One," aren't exactly euphonious but they temper the percussion's aggressiveness and probably incite live crowds to clap offbeat. (This must happen a lot at Professor Murder shows.) The mellowed-out "Free Stress Test" closes this eyeblink-quick song cycle, and it's where the band finally showcases its songwriting muscle. The synths here lay down colorful, trance-inducing textures, as opposed to the cacophonous blips and whirls on "Champion". Bass, vocals, and percussion all quiet down in deference to the melody, the drummer even resting his foot for a few bars. It's as if the dudes caught something fiery and beautiful shooting across the sky and have huddled together to watch it.