Pitchfork

The haste in the release of this "mini-LP," as the band calls it, means one of two things. Either The First of the Microbe Hunters is an apologetic missive for the career nadir of Cobra and Phases Group Plays Voltage in the Milky Night or the fatal Jenga pull on Stereolab's credibility after ceaseless releases. Fortunately for "the Groop" and the world, the former is the case.

More than anything, this release documents the crippling production of Jim O'Rourke. It's refreshing to hear Stereolab escape the productive thumb of Chicago's dry art figures. Seemingly, O'Rourke and John McEntire would have Stereolab wallow in a bog of sterile cocktail wank-like rotting cranberries. McEntire's lone studio contribution on Microbe Hunters, "I Feel the Air (of Another Planet)," grates and retreads past offenses-- "ba" is repeated ad nausea over frigid blips and echoing, muted piano. I think I remember them saying "ba" once before.

Elsewhere, Stereolab engage in the funkiest, heaviest music of their career. While monotony still remains a passion, subtle psychedelic flourishes and thick percussion pumps add much needed verve. The wonderfully titled "Outer Bongolia" remembers that jazz also existed in the '70s, when artists like Herbie Hancock, Mongo Santamaria, and Les McCann rocked nasty. "Intervals" picks along on a quiet acoustic while a gooey electric is strums with LSD tabs. Soon the song shifts into an analog forest of chirping keyboards and snapping drums. Thankfully, songs shift and return. "Retrograde Mirror Form" similarly passes through three phases of organ-punched grooves. When monotony is called for, such as on "Barock-Plastik," phat, ass-moving bass keeps the vital juices flowing.

Don't write off Stereolab just yet. Possible, intriguing new directions are hinted at on Microbe Hunters. "Nomus Et Phusis" bounces on jungle timpani, sounding so refreshingly non-caucasian. Forget their past trails-- Microbe Hunters drifts away from the droning pop of their recent releases. In the context of electronic music and dance, Stereolab actually sound groundbreaking again. Of course, we still beg for any sort of lyrical development; and the strength of this release is obviously its sitcom-length brevity. The best Stereolab albums have always been their EPs. Still, the cover isn't brown and orange, and Microbe Hunters comes closest to capturing the live Stereolab experience. Stereolab need to record in Brazil or the Ivory Coast and stay away from Chicago. And unlike last time, that isn't a plea for them to leave me alone.