Pitchfork

Generally speaking, "supergroup" isn't a word that gets thrown around a lot. The term is usually reserved for one-off vanity projects by famous people with too much time on their hands. And besides, the results of the supergroup collaboration are almost invariably doomed to be regarded as secondary and inconsequential. If David Lee Roth, Keanu Reeves, and the Olsen Twins made an album together, it would not only be a surefire sign that Earth had finally become a true Gomorrah, but also would undoubtedly fail to generate the revenues and public acclaim of Van Halen's 1984, The Matrix, or the July 2006 issue of Hustler.

It seems odd, then, that a pack of talented but largely overlooked Canadians and one up-and-coming, Canadian-by-way-of-Virginia alt-country chanteuse would come to be spoken of as if they were indie rock's answer to The Traveling Wilburys. But listening to The New Pornographers' stunning debut, Mass Romantic, the term "supergroup" seems surprisingly fitting, if not in the traditional sense of the word. Certainly, Mass Romantic was as far from an insubstantial vanity project as one can imagine-- but, just as certainly, it doesn't sound like the product of just some average, run-of-the-mill "group."

That record was the result of years of sporadic tinkering by a rotating cast of insanely talented individuals. Each song seemed to showcase a different permutation of the members' talents, and registered like a perfectly constructed sonic artifact, rather than just a recording of some people playing their instruments in a room. Since its release, the Pornographers have become the main project for primary songwriter Carl Newman, bassist John Collins, keyboardist Blaine Thurier, drummer Kurt Dahle, and recently acquired multi-instrumentalist Todd Fancey. The band has toured extensively, and over the past two years, written and recorded this, their sophomore album. In other words, The New Pornographers have become a real band.

Accordingly, the most substantial difference between Mass Romantic and Electric Version is that the latter sounds much more like an album by a band than a collective. On Mass Romantic, every sonic nook and cranny was filled by a whirring synthesizer, a buzzing acoustic guitar, or a five-part harmony vocal. Electric Version, on the other hand, is a much more live-sounding and spacious record, with instrumentation kept relatively straightforward and a minimum of evident studio embellishments. And yet, The New Pornographers have retained their signature sound-- in short, Electric Version is a more streamlined and spontaneous incarnation of the same catchy, harmony-laden power-pop that provided the foundation for Mass Romantic.

Even more so than Mass Romantic, Electric Version sounds like Carl Newman's record. The frenetic-verse-and-anthemic-chorus formula that Newman toyed with last time around constitutes the core of this record, and provides the format for some of its greatest moments, but also a few of its most forgettable. "The End of Medicine", which was included as a B-side on the "Letter from an Occupant" single, gets a fantastic reworking here, as Newman turns a fragile vocal hook into the centerpiece for a perfectly concise pop gem. On "July Jones", Newman inflects his bouncy, melodic songwriting with a kind of reflective melancholy that Mass Romantic never even hinted at, with absolutely gorgeous results. In fact, the more spacious sound of Electric Version allows for a lot of low-key moments that Mass Romantic simply didn't have room for: "From Blown Speakers", another standout, subtly develops to a powerful and bittersweet finale, weaving the threads of nostalgia that run throughout the song into a shimmering coda.

As was the case with Mass Romantic, Newman makes some of his most powerful statements on Electric Version through the silvery pipes of Neko Case. "The Laws Have Changed", in which Case and Newman trade off lead vocals, may very well be the best song here. Hooks within hooks are exchanged between the two singers, and the contrast between Newman's smirking disaffection and Case's effortless resonance is played up to great effect.

Since 2000, Dan Bejar has amicably given up his position as a full-time member of the band. Nevertheless, he's offered three contributions to Electric Version, and they're absolutely superb, as his obtuse, nonlinear songwriting provides a welcome counterpoint to Newman's classicist leanings. On "Chump Change", Newman's power-pop machine turns a typical Bejar ditty into a chugging anthem, effortlessly transforming a line like "the saints and the desert use their heads" from an abstract lyrical nugget into one of the most indelible hooks on the record. "Testament to Youth in Verse", Bejar's best on Electric Version, is host to a two-minute vocal round coda that really has to be heard to be believed.

Of course, strong though it may be, Electric Version is not without its low points. Sometimes Newman's propensity for writing verses crammed full of chord changes works against him, especially when such verses fail to effectively segue into a rousing chorus. Those expecting the dense, powerful, and insistently upbeat onslaught of Mass Romantic will no doubt react to Electric Version with some degree of initial disappointment. Repeated listens, however, reveal that Electric Version not only displays Carl Newman's brilliant and unique pop sensibility, but allows it enough space to reveal previously obstructed layers of emotional depth. Indeed, the overall success of this record suggests that The New Pornographers are anything but a one-off project; with any luck, it will mark the beginning of the band's metamorphosis from "supergroup" to, simply, "great band."