Pitchfork

Despite running a label called Information, spaced-out duo Studio are among the most mysterious of Gothenburg, Sweden's recent up-and-comers. An enigmatic bunch, all: Jens Lekman signs off one of his best songs "yours truly," but he's an entertainer pure and gifted enough to make fictions ring true when he "reconstructs and remodels the past." The Tough Alliance named their label Sincerely Yours, but they're as apt to hear sincerity in a Paris Hilton single as in a cult classic. What's more, both "Information" and "Sincerely Yours" turn out to be the titles of tunes by fellow Gothenburg pop impresarios the Embassy... who have shared a label with each of the aforementioned Swedes, at least at some point.

What these musically broad-ranging townsfolk have in common are 1) Unpolished vocals of the Bernard Sumner/Shaun Ryder school, and 2) An interest in the freedom of expression supposedly allowed by indie rock, only 3) Without indie's other typical, readily cooptable aesthetic conventions. So Lekman croons romantically over easy-listening samples, while Sincerely Yours signee Joel Alme bangs the piano to within an inch of Billy Joel's life. For their part, Studio split time between mesmerizing instrumentals and emotive new-wave pop. Their story so far has been one of addition, building from early 7"s and EPs to two 2006 vinyl-only releases and, finally, full-fledged 2007 debut CD Yearbook 1; last year's remix-based Yearbook 2 added outside singers' vocals. Studio half Dan Lissvik also produced the latest Embassy single, irie Peter Bjorn and John-esque pop gem "State '08".

Lissvik goes without bandmate Rasmus Hägg on 7 Trx + Intermission, unveiled amid little fanfare last November. If less isn't quite more here, it's often still enough. Despite the name, 7 Trx + Intermission has nine tracks, titled only by number and spread out over almost 45 minutes. Studio "half" was right: Gone are the synths, vocals, and most of the Spanish guitar flourishes. Instead, Lissvik's electric guitar rambles across Mideast-at-midnight dune-grooves. Joining the usual Nordic mix of krautrock repetition and Vini Reilly's resplendent lyricism is every percussion instrument that ever clattered-- bongos, castanets, the clock from "60 Minutes". Those rich bass sounds unifying Studio's proper albums are back, reverberating across the syncopated spaces at tempos just too slow for dancing. Remember "Regulate" with Warren G? On track seven (aka "B3" if you're spinning vinyl), birds squawk over a groove that's almost its drowsy, staccato cousin.

As a set of cerebral Arabian Nights bedroom jams, Aladdin to 2007's The Lion King, 7 Trx + Intermission works best when it stretches out. Listeners should probably do the same. You don't need a hookah to enjoy the dune-whistling woodwinds on track five or the undulating reverbations on track six, but I imagine it would help. At nearly 11 minutes, the third track's neatly interwoven guitars have plenty of room to turn hazily distorted, the meditative poolside listen you never thought you'd need in January. If 7 Trx + Intermission eventually starts to blur together and wear me down on focused, repeat listens more than Studio's celestial drifts ever do, that's probably to be expected from an album more about surreptitiously effecting a certain mental state than keeping us glued to the edge of our seats. One of the original English meanings for "information"? Giving form or shape to the mind.