Stephin Merritt, the mastermind behind the New York lo-fi outfit Magnetic Fields, is attempting to be the new plastic surgeon of indie rock.
On the aptly titled "Distortion," Merritt does his best to take a bunch of ugliness and make it into something beautiful.
Coating each song in a nasty film of screeching guitars and industrial reverb, the band looks to meet My Bloody Valentine in the noise-pop pantheon, but instead comes up with a batch of songs sounding like they were recorded in a steel mill.
But not every composition succumbs to the lifeless metallic production.
Big pop hooks penetrate a wall of fuzz on "California Girls." The album's best track, it's a heartening anthem for every guy who's ever been turned down by a girl.
Charm and melody make an early exit though, and unfortunately few other tunes transcend the overdriven mangling.
When the half-hour grind of the album halts, what's left when you pull off the headphones is the faint buzz of white noise and tinny drumbeats still ricocheting between your ears.
If you're a robot or live in a factory, you'll like what you hear.
