Mired in self-consciously muddy aural manipulations, this North Carolina band can't (and don't) live up to their acute, exacting name on this debut full-length. With the post-punk party currently in the thick of its heaving, cash-in-reunion stage (a precursor to the inevitable "Real World vs. Road Rules"-style cannibalization), the foursome tries to reinvigorate the bash by throwing out the straight-on kick-drum angularity of their EP and enrolling in a hazy art class where Dave Thomas visually represents skewed entropy by throwing Mark E. Smith through a sugar-glass window. Hardly melodic and not adventurous or invigorating enough to pull off the scuzzy brassiness of its yelping forefathers, the Nein get all anguished and pissed as it alternates between grubby grunge slow jams and lo-fi oom-pah on Wrath of Circuits.
Much of the group's murkiness can be credited to the addition of samples guy Dale Flattum, who sprays utterly random noises all over the album, diluting its semi-weak impact in the process. On "The Vibe" we get aquarium bubble pops, atonal video game bleeps, and a plinky keyboard loop, but instead of somehow adding a much-needed fresh Faustian dimension to the song, the found sounds highlight its aimlessness. With Flattum's tape wrangling a constant distraction, inconspicuously snarling singer Finn Cohen seems to be holding back from truly unleashing a wail worthy of the best posting and punking. His largely incomprehensible musings on relationships and technology make Trail of Dead's similarly themed Source Tags & Codes seem like an unbridled lyrical masterpiece.
Fittingly, the "oh oh" chorus of the relatively lucid, hi-hat stomping "Lost Sounds" provides brief respite from the purveying sub-Sparta At the Drive In spin-off crud. Proving once again that the Nein would be better off without their own muddle butt Jim O'Rourke causing an unrequited mess, the spare "Bleeding Elvis" is a fine smooth-burning ballad Trent Reznor would love to cry about. Just try to ignore the words--"I had to replace those integers with impossible functions and irrational combinations leading to more furtive glances"-- which are headache causing pseudo-computer puzzles nobody wants to crack.
Excess is usually something post-punks don't have time to worry about-- and it should stay that way. Though they're clearly (desperately) trying to initiate their own neo-post branch, the Nein don't have the tunes or the funk or the strut to break free from the surplus sonic ballyhoo that engulfs much of Circuits. Maybe they should have just copied Gang of Four. More.
