Pop music is a curious beast. That particular phrase just happened to occur to me, but it turns out to be apt - pop is a beast in that it's a creature of instinct, craving familiarity and predictable reactions to repeated stimuli. But it is also curious, since too much familiarity, too much predictibility, leads to stagnation and boredom. The tension in pop, then, is a suspension between the familiar and the new, the conventional and the experimental. Some pop bands emphasize the familiar and compensate for their relative lack of newness by focusing on crafty arrangements or witty lyrics. Some eschew the soft and warm plushness of convention in favor of the showing of claws, the thorniness of the unexpected chord, the jarring sound, the harsh vocal. Less immediately coherent than 1996's "Territory" Shall Mean the Universe, the shifting collective centered around Pat Stolley is here less tame than the relatively safer and more regular texture of that collection of songs. Sonically, the band has become looser rhythmically, at times achieving nearly a '70s pop-funk feel ("Little Pieces"), and displays a wider panoply of sound. Lots of keyboards color these songs, and strings and Salvation Army horns set off the quizzical "What You Know, What You Think You Know." "Housewife" is an odd sort of waltz, with its electric piano, e-bowed guitar, and a reedy synth line. At times, the band's approach can be a bit analytical, nearly stand-offish, with an alienated approach to pop that's almost reminiscent of Wire circa 154 - such as the sparking, atonal guitar line that winds through the latter half of "My Mantra." The Multiple Cat may not win your affection immediately - perhaps because it doesn't go out of its way to win your approval - but its allures prove deep maybe because they're both subtler and spikier than those of more domesticated pop musics.

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