(Merge, 2007)

To be honest, I’ve only recently started listening to Spoon. In fact streaming Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga on the band’s website prior to its July release was my introduction to this Austin, Texas 4-piece—something that I’m now ashamed to admit, as friends of mine live and breathe Spoon, and I’ve also heard great things about their past albums, but I was always too focused on the wealth that is Canadian indie music to bat an eye-lash. Thankfully, the advent of album streaming (www.gagagagaga.net) and the no-hassle, so-easy-it’s-like-stealing, subscription-model digital music store have made it easy for me to widen my focus—and not a moment too soon, as missing out on this release would have been very unfortunate.

From that first listen I knew I was hearing something worth checking out. Taking hold instantly, “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” the album’s initial standout, penetrated my dense national pride without remorse and left me feverously checking the album’s release date. Unapologetically catchy and upbeat, the song still exudes poise and menace—an ever-present dynamic on an album that can only be described as effortlessly cool. Of course, one good song does not a recommendation make, but sceptics need look no further than the strong rhythm, playful horns and driving melody of “The Underdog” to find another example of this album’s worth (along with what will surely become the albums most indie-quotable lyric: “You’ve got no fear of the underdog—that’s why you will not survive.”). Not to mention that these are simply the two tracks that stuck out immediately and if “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb” is the hook and “The Underdog” is the line, then the rest of the album definitely steps up to play the sinker.

However, I’m hesitant to say that it’s a grower, as I strongly feel that Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga has an initial bite that is more infectious than most. If I had to pin it down I’d simply say that the album is seductive. Both “Don’t You Evah” and “Eddie’s Ragga” are perfect examples of this, as even if they don’t grab your attention immediately, their sexy and gripping rhythms will eventually win you over—if not zombify you completely as the uncontrollable gyrations take hold. The same can easily be said for “Rhthm & Soul” and “Final Feelings,” with the latter also wielding an undeniably catchy chorus even if the break towards the end does slightly dampen the momentum. In fact, the only song on the entire album that has yet to really grow on me in any way is “My Little Japanese Cigarette Case,” a drawling and repetitive number that seems as though it really wants to build to more than it actually achieves. That said, this is hardly a damning criticism, as it is a perfectly serviceable song on its own that simply falters in comparison to the rest of the stellar album.

Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga is a record that exudes charm, but is not too cool for its own good. Upbeat, smooth and sexy, there is more than enough here to please old and new fans alike. Rest assured, I will promptly be seeking out some of Spoon’s prior albums and suggest anyone who is as ignorant as me do the same.