Pitchfork

All your life, it's the same thing: No dessert till you finish your vegetables. No TV till you finish your homework. No slobbery makeout attempts till you've had a conversation, or at least six drinks each. Avoid lame rockwriterisms like "languid," "pastoral," or "soundscapes." And never, never mix 60s throwback good-time rock'n'roll with languid pastoral soundscapes.

North Carolina husband/wife duo the Rosebuds may not break many rules, but they do challenge that last one. The Nuggets-distilled exuberance of the catchiest tunes from their 2003 debut, Make Out, twists and shouts through half of their new six-song Unwind EP. The shimmery lullabies that seemed to break up the first record's party like an unexpected parental arrival flesh out the rest, and while they're still not as fun as the retro yeah-yeah whatsits, they make for a welcome, hazy comedown-- coasting home at 3 a.m. in a taxi instead of waiting for the subway.

Like dessert or TV, The Rosebuds' uptempo numbers are sweet, immediate, and familiar. Singer/guitarist Ivan Howard's rowdy pipes sound ideal for roaring through "Mustang Sally", but instead they're quoting Sonny Bono ("the beat goes on")-- at least on punchy first track "You Better Get Ready". Howard's inevitable "ahh"s and "hey-hey"s and collaborator Kelly Crisp's jumpy keyboards pick up where the debut's raucous "Kicks in the Schoolyard" left off. Brassy "Edmund Street" tosses in snakes-and-ladders piano solos and smoldering "Spirit in the Sky" lead guitar. "I'd Feel Better" closes the disc with teenage heartache and teenage schadenfreude (what's the diff, really?) over the same straight-ahead rhythm the Strokes nicked from the Velvets, or was it Modern Lovers? Either way it still gets the kids to maybe consider shaking what Chuck Taylor gave 'em.

Like fresh vegetables or a Henry James novel, the slow songs are less fun and more demanding, but nearly as rewarding after they're digested. The deliberate "El Camino" is as spacious as Grandaddy's "El Caminos in the West" and as distortedly anthemic as the last few bars of Radiohead's "Creep". "Is There Room?" shuffles softly a la the debut's "Big Heartbreak", Howard's double-tracked vocals reflecting across a dusty hall of mirrors like Britt Daniel singing M. Ward.

The title track's synth string-soaked postmodern lounge-pop reminds me of (oh god oh god oh god) the last two or three Sugar Ray hits. Not unfavorably! So rules are rules and breaking them can be good/revelatory but sometimes weird, like boxer-briefs or dessert before dinner or "Falls Apart" or, uh, I'd better go.