Pitchfork

Of all the genres that roam the indie rock biosphere, the one that probably gets cut the most slack is power pop, which eschews influences that peaked in the past three decades, moves within a sonic range between the Ramones and Beach Boys, and whose bands are aware there's a loyal audience waiting to lap up their derivative, harmony-laden, verse-chorus-verse songs. Existing against this dire backdrop makes the New Pornographers look even more singular. It's almost unfair, in a way, given that the Pornographers aren't so much a band as a Davis Cup team of Canada's finest indie singer-songwriters, captained by veteran Carl Newman. When Newman, Destroyer's Dan Bejar, and Neko Case first got together (with, it should be noted, other random Canadians) to record Mass Romantic, it seemed to be a goofy, feverish one-off, like a boozy weekend that accidentally birthed an indie pop classic. When the LP became arguably bigger than any of their individual endeavors, the three reunited for Electric Version, but couldn't keep the momentum rolling, suggesting the project's magic was fleeting.

Twin Cinema doesn't just rebut that notion, it renders it ludicrous. With more developed ideas than Mass Romantic and a more cohesive sound than Electric Version, it's their most consistent, confident, and best album to date. Newman is once again at the wheel for the majority of the LP, furthering the notion that the New Pornographers are just Zumpano with added starpower. But this time Newman folds in the more mature sound he pursued whilst under the name A.C., focusing more on rich, Joe Jackson-style piano than arcade keyboards, and getting a lot of mileage out of the ebow. Newman's characteristic pop gems are present and accounted for ("Sing Me Spanish Techno", "Use It"), but most thrilling are the moments where he expands his sound, be it the disorienting, cyclical chorus of "Falling Through Your Clothes" or the shrilly upper-register, surprisingly funky "Three or Four".

It's a small disappointment that Neko Case's internal vocoder isn't applied to another rave-up, but Newman directs her well through two ballads, the off-kilter "The Bones of an Idol" and the wistful "These Are the Fables". Even Bejar contributes tracks that actually sound like they were recorded with the rest of the band in the room. "Jackie, Dressed in Cobras" may or may not revive the character from his Mass Romantic highlight, but it's a perfect integration of Bejar's acrid vocals into the more hyper Pornographer sound, the corners softened by Case's Children's Workshop harmonies and Newman's piano punctuations.

Yet in the upset of the year, it's drummer Kurt Dahle who practically steals Twin Cinema's show. On prior NP efforts the drums were almost an afterthought. Here the percussion is pushed to the front of the mix, and Dahle's swing and crash are put tracks like "The Jessica Numbers" and "The Bleeding Heart Show" over the top. The eight-armed drumming that fills every corner of "Use It", or The Soft Bulletin-esque drum-bash coda to "These Are the Fables" allow Newman to continue his indulgence with the Who (reference "35 in the Shade" with "Boris the Spider"), nicking "Armenia City in the Sky" for the more astral portions of "Stacked Crooked".

The added rhythmic complexity is just one way in which the New Pornographers successfully tweak established formulas and set themselves apart. Sure, at their core, the songs of Twin Cinema have that catchy, melodic something that forces me to reach repeatedly for the p-word, but for Newman & co., instant hummability isn't the endpoint but the foundation. Whether it's weaving in opaque, double-meaning lyrics or sneaking a horn part way deep in the mix, the compositions on Twin Cinema are immediate yet multi-layered. They'd be great in their own right, but by comparison to the plagiaristic, closed-minded, infinitely repeating world of power pop, it's all the more special an accomplishment.