Jonathan Bates loves the sound of his own voice. He wants you to love it, too; so much that he backs himself up and ad-libs on "Four Leaf Clover", creates a well of harmonies on "Fashionably Uninvited", and becomes a deranged doo-wop group on "Madison". You have to be comfortable with your voice to make a bedroom pop record, and Bates is the principal player and songwriter of Mellowdrone, who's been recording for years before releasing Box, his band's debut LP. Many one-man wonders have streamlined their quirks (Beck, Nine Inch Nails) or just disappeared by now (Self, anyone?), but Bates' smash-and-grab attitude towards genre finds a middle ground between indie and more radio-oriented modern rock, tossing small scraps to both camps.

Box is a collection of sorts, borrowing four of the strongest songs from Mellowdrone's earlier EPs. The new tracks are just as bold: "Oh My" contrasts a perky strum and casual, slurred singing with aggressive beats and jagged guitars that would fit snugly on the latest Nine Inch Nails record, and "Four Leaf Clover" smears Twin Peaks synthesizers over looped acoustic guitars and lazy funk bass.

Not every New-NIN, Depeche Mode-dabbler counts Angelo Badalamenti as an influence, and "Fashionably Uninvited", borrowed from an ealier EP, reaps the greatest returns. A little more ethereal and less blubbery then its older counterpart, the gentle bass-and-brushes opening beat imperceptibly slows time, while Bates' lilting vocals follow a tentative piano line that wades through like Fred Astaire pirouetting through the Walkmen's studio. Moments like that are enough to forgive-- indulge, even-- the swirling Alice In Chains-style vocals in the chorus. Elsewhere, the aggressive ranting/singing on "Beautiful Day" becomes even more paranoid with the open space of the recording. Bates' vocals have gone from impudent and angsty to a more confident croon; the big yell that comes later on "Madison" would make Julian Casablancas red with envy (as opposed to red from straining to hit notes).

While the first half comes on strong with the sleek, aggressive would-be hits, the second shows their sensitive side: the coy seductive pulse "Orange Marmalade", the self-serving pep talk over suffocating bass on "Madison", the pleading of "Bone Marrow", or the baroque electronic death wish of "Limb to Limb". It adds depth and variety to Box, but it's also a struggle between identities-- Bates sounds like he wants it both ways, flipping the switch between introverted and invincible at will. Both are played with equal conviction, but it's the more wistful side of Mellowdrone that comes more naturally, and brings some ambiguity when those songs get the subtler, more seductive beats. Tracks like "Oh My" simply flash their goods. If it's the eager-to-please first half of Box that garners more fans for the band, I couldn't fault them for being as melodic and having a better sense of atmosphere than their alt-rock contemporaries.