Tegan and Sara should no longer be mistaken for tampon rock, a comparison only fair because of the company they kept. Now the 26-year-olds have much more in common with 1980s power-pop, rounded with bubbly keyboard squeals, and they do this sound better than either Avril Lavigne or, say, Liz Phair. Some weird choices, however-- vocally, instrumentally, and otherwise-- mar their latest album, The Con. Yet the record's most interesting bits-- a keen sense of melody-- disappear too quickly and can't carry the album over its production bumps. The edgiest thing about the sisters Quin continues to be their haircuts.

The duo's 2004 album So Jealous had great moments, too. "Walking with a Ghost", a song later covered by the White Stripes, was perhaps its finest, if only because it showed how Tegan and Sara can add depth to heartache through keen observation. Such examples are everywhere on The Con: "When I jerk away from holding hands with you/ I know these habits hurt important parts of you," they sing on "Back in Your Head", a song that boasts the album's best keyboard lines. Lyrically, there are as many turds as gems though, and they usually appear within five words of the word "heart." "I want to draw you a floorplan of my head and heart/ I want to give directions, helpful hints, what you’ll be looking for," Sara pleads on "Floorplan". Maybe they should have called it "No Exit". It sounds like a rush of emotion, but flows awkwardly. There's an earnestness they'd do well to drop-- if they know love's a sham, and know the sham's a sham, then sing about that already-- but they don't. I can only imagine that co-producer Chris Walla (Death Cab for Cutie) contributed to the problem.

Tegan's songs are conventional, so they rely on embellishment-- like the Phil Collins-esque drums on "Are You Ten Years Ago"-- to make them more interesting. Her lyrical indugences can also be difficult to swallow. "Hop a Plane" does better for Tegan, because the line she repeats here is catchy enough to stay pleasurable over each iteration. Sara, who has the more strident voice of the two, writes their more complex songs. "Knife Going In"'s instruments drift out of tune, which gives it a seasick, disconnected quality. "Relief Next to Me" thumps like wet newspaper though, her weak similes never building up to a satisfying payoff: a big chorus, a cute melody. "Relief" gets one thing right though: When Sara sings about things "in the dark", you get the feeling that, for much of their young, female audience anyway, they can serve as a beacon.