Washington DC's Thievery Corporation aren't really musicians. Like Martha Stewart and Oprah Winfrey, the duo of Eric Hilton and Rob Garza are extremely savvy lifestyle-promoters. Their output typifies fashionista mood music-- music not meant to be listened to, but to be displayed as a marker of jaded sophistication. Coincidentally, I believe Thievery Corporation's albums perfectly describe the narrow tastes of professional Washington, DC.

For most readers of the 'Fork, DC means Fugazi, the Dismemberment Plan, and maybe a little go-go. But many who live and work in the city live and die by a single virtue: blandness. If you're a politico or a lawyer, nothing ensures success more than not sticking out. Look at the present Congress-- now that Traficant is behind bars, there's no one to display even the merest hint of idiosyncrasy. Thievery Corporation understand that in a city where Moby's Play is perceived as cutting-edge, they don't have to try too hard-- all it takes is to remember never to release anything that hasn't been exhaustively tried and tested, and in service for years.

The duo realizes that a smattering of international elements-- a brief tabla sample here, an oud there-- will confer apparent substance on tracks that are never to be listened to, but rather to become part of the daily, accessorizing ritual that is the lives of the city's "elite". Professional DC agrees that it's acceptable for lobbyists, lawyers, and corporate accountants to wear certain clothing styles, but not others; to enjoy canonical works of art, but never entertain more experimental forms; to buy certain albums and not others. No surprise, then, that those obnoxious tokens of broadmindedness, the Buddha Bar and Hotel Costes compilations, fly off the shelves of area Borders and Barnes & Noble. But shame and censure await any Hill staffer found in possession of anything more exotic than Yo-Yo Ma's Silk Road Journeys.

Hilton and Garza pull back the curtains to reveal their opening number, an Air-y trip-hop ballad called "Heaven's Gonna Burn Your Eyes", featuring Emiliana Torrini. Torrini is the quintessential Thievery Corp collaborator. She embodies the triumph of style-over-substance. The Icelandic-Italian is an exotically Euro singer who conveniently represents Björk without any of Björk's twitchy eccentricity. Though sound-sculptors from Fat Cat's roster superbly remixed tracks from Torrini's debut album, Love in the Time of Science, none of her remixers seems to have had an inspirational effect on her or the Thievery lads. "Heaven's Gonna Burn Your Eyes" is as flat as Velveeta and half as nutritious.

The trap drums, oud, and violins of "Facing East" make Rabih Abou-Kahlil's aromatic fusion of traditional Lebanese folk music and jazz palatable for Enya fans. "The Outernationalist" is a dub excursion for those whose appreciation for reggae starts and stops at Bob Marley's Legend. Do Garza and Hilton really think that "Un Simple Histoire", featuring the meager vocal talent of returning collaborator, Loulou, will provoke awe and wonder? The beats that underpin Loulou and a sitar sample would have sounded passé a decade ago. Unless a Milli Vanilli revival is imminent, there's no excuse for this.

Things improve distinctly with the bossa nova of "Meu Destino" and the Afro-Cuban son of "Exilo". Garza and Hilton refrain from dabbling and forcing gaudy baubles onto the performances; instead, they allow their collaborators (Patrick de Santo and Vernie Verla respectively) to be themselves and not some pre-packaged approximation. But de Santos' and Verla's authenticity goes to shit when the album returns to its "Girl, You Know It's True"-isms with "From Creation", a track which features a beefed-up version of the rhythm that served as the foundation for that timeless Milli Vanilli hit, and caps it off with vibes on loan from an elevator in the ESL Building.

Guest crooner Notch tries on his best Horace Andy impression for the record's title track, and Shinehead, renowned for his pop-reggae versions of Sting's "Englishman in New York" and Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" pitches in on "The State of the Union" with his pal Sleepy Wonder in tow. Riding clapped-out beats identical to those of "Un Simple Histoire", "The State of the Nation" endeavors to equal Badmarsh and Shri's "Signs". Though Sleepy Wonder can convincingly mimic UK Apache, whose tender vocals made "Signs" such a memorable cut, the blatantly obvious stream-of-consciousness lyrics can't steer me from thinking that "The State of the Union" isn't even equal to the sum of its shabby parts.

Though ESL Music has licensed some outstanding downtempo artists (Blue States, Broadway Project, Les Hommes), none of this excellence has apparently touched Thievery Corporation. The Richest Man in Babylon is a career-low for Thievery Corporation and ESL. If they keep this up much longer, even the power-brokers will lose interest.