Pitchfork

In a tug-of-war match, the Most Serene Republic could give fellow Arts & Crafts-men Broken Social Scene a run for their money (and members), but the two are far from evenly matched in the studio. Although TMSR were the A&C label's first non-Broken Social Scene-related artists, the new collective is awfully similar to the old: Both blow up private bedroom ballads to marching band proportions and play up a revolving-door policy for vocalists, creating less an impression of an indie rock than a utopian commune town meeting.

Clocking in at almost an hour-- and pulling out even more tricks and toys than TMSR's debut, Underwater Cinematographer-- Population shows growth in the sense of size, but not so much in quality. As unfair as the "band nerd" stereotype can be, the Most Serene Republic practically define it. While Broken Social Scene or Stars barely break a sweat on their mid-tempo rockers, tracks like "Sherry and Her Butterfly Net" or "Solipsism Millionaires" run themselves ragged, piling on mounds of stop/start verse breaks and vocal parts over melodies not strong enough to serve as a foundation.

Luckily, Population's setbacks are occasionally overshadowed by its strengths: When its cerebral power is firing on all cylinders, a sleeping giant is nudged awake. Opener "Humble Peasants" almost single-handedly vindicates the criticism aimed at the band's plentiful instrumentation, using mostly wind and string instruments to evoke the orchestral, pastoral imagery of one of M83's digitized epics. Although the full band setup is fertile ground for life-affirming tunes, the Republic avoids easy heartstring-tugging on "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "Career in Shaping Clay", two detached art-rock tracks that, like the Dismemberment Plan or early Les Savy Fav, serve up backhanded tributes to emo.

Still, these few highlights can't redeem the fact that listening to Population feels like a war of attrition. Compared to similarly intricate albums like Caribou's Andorra or Sunset Rubdown's Random Spirit Lover, Population feels like a quadruple-stacked Big Mac instead of a four-course meal. Rather than cleverly weaving in and out of melody lines and utilizing diverse dynamics and rhythms, the Most Serene Republic cram distorted drum fills and brass leads into songs that lacks the ideas to justify the bombast.