Call it the Fickle Revolution. An increasing number of indie bands appear to be absorbing the channel-hopping, micro-editing, multitasking pace of our ADD generation, flitting amongst styles and sounds like a middle-schooler tries out different cultural identities. As opposed to the genre-casserole cookbooks that glutted the late 90s in the long shadow of one Beck Hansen, this trend seems to be more about keeping the peas, chicken alfredo, and biscuit strictly sequestered on different parts of the plate, while still packing them all into a single track. Borrowing the love of segues and multi-part suites from prog while leaving behind (most of) the muso wank, this branch of indie rock seems to be fighting its complacency with complexity, replacing calculated non-chalance with giddy ambition.

Last year's flag-wavers for this trend were the Fiery Furnaces, whose Blueberry Boat revived the untapped "A Quick One While He's Away" story-song format for a surprisingly divisive audience. Though the Furnaces don't seem willing to relinquish their leadership role-- what with stacks of new material all set to be released in the coming year-- the hot prospect on the scene just might be Architecture in Helsinki, an eight-member Australian outfit bursting with the same ecstatic impatience and pretentious-pop charm. It pains my soul to so tightly tether a band's image to that of another, but AiH utilize a very similar approach to making music (if in tighter, briefer packages than the Furnaces), and will likely provoke reactions along the same love-it-or-loathe-it battle lines.

Where Architecture in Helsinki hold an advantage, however, is in sheer size, with eight members contributing on a Santa-long list of instruments, producing a sound like a third-grade music class let loose in a music instrument warehouse. Most of the band's members also contribute vocals to In Case We Die, creating a vocal spectrum to match the instrumental diversity: off-tune twee, standard-issue indie-boy/girl croon, congregational harmonies, all-male military choral chants. These elements give Architecture in Helsinki multiple palette combinations to try, and to their credit, In Case We Die tries as many as humanly possible in 12 tracks and 40 minutes.

Take the title track, which (of course!) contains a parenthetical "parts 1-4" on the listing. Part 1 opens with electronic shimmers reminiscent of their smaller-canvas debut, Fingers Crossed, but surfeited with random percussion including rather Smile-esque saws and hammers. Shift suddenly to Part 2, where strings and horns flare briefly before giving way to a Stringman solo. Part 3 contains a rather Arcade Fire unison-chorus vocal, complete with field recordings of a fireworks show. And Part 4 eases us back down with a minute of indie slow-dance, complete with angelic backing singers and what sounds like a French horn solo. Oh, did I mention all this takes place in 3:33?

Architecture in Helsinki's unwillingness to decide what kind of band they are is their most endearing quality, forcing them through multiple metamorphoses within each song-- like "The Fly" in fast-forward. At the core, one could probably most easily pound them into the square hole of twee-pop, but I haven't heard too many twee bands so convinced that they can pull off a spastic dance segment ("Nevereverdid"), or make a two-minute symphony about math ("It's 5!"), or effortlessly build a song from a simple electro beat to a brassy peak Beulah would be jealous of-- and, oh yeah, use some sitar and psychedelic a capella while they're at it ("Do the Whirlwind"). What passes for straightforward, in songs like "The Cemetery" and "Wishbone" is still delivered at three-espresso pace, with enough mic-swapping and instrument-switching to make me imagine their live show looks like an Olympic event.

OK, I could spend another 600 words just diagramming the various twists and turns within the shockingly short boundaries of In Case We Die, but it's a lot better to listen than to read. All the same, don't be surprised if you experience a little dizziness, or a little frustration, as every catchy melody on this disc (and there are dozens) tends to arrive and depart faster than a subway train. Armed with more ideas than should probably be legal, Architecture in Helsinki can't be bothered to dwell for too long on any one of them, and it's this fickle nature that will make you either adore them or deplore them.