I already know what you're thinking. You've taken one look at the name Pedal Steel Transmission and you figure it could only be some sort of nu-country thing straight out of the midsection of the latest issue of No Depression. At least, that's what I figured it would be when I heard the name, but I could scarcely have been further from the truth. Sure, the namesake instrument puts in quite a few appearances, and there's twang to be had from time to time, but this is hardly your run-of-the-mill indie & western album, as this Chicago quartet swings through all manner of post-this and neo-that territory en route to making their wide-ranging, occasionally exhilarating sophomore album.
The heart of the band's sound is really nothing terribly special-- if you've listened to an appreciable pile of indie rock records released since 1991 you've heard it all-- but where they take it is what makes it worth listening to. "Breakin' Windows Everywhere" is, at its core, a standard alt-country tune circa Anodyne-- it's got the smattering of banjo, the shuffling rhythm, the hint of twang in the otherwise urban accent and of course the keening pedal steel-- but it has the squirming ambient collage, "It's Only a Day 'Til My Bed Is Warm" for an intro, and these rushing Chicago post-rock swells interspersed throughout, stretching an otherwise ordinary song into a broadly eclectic mini-epic.
And the mini-epic is Pedal Steel Transmission's true bread-and-butter. Witness the quaking, wah-drenched improvisation and murky Slint-channeling riffage of "Gilman Report", or the way "Editene" burns through a lengthy, herky-jerky intro before offering up anything like a verse. The album opens with the band's best mini-epic, a brilliant song called "Waiting" that initially seems to embody its title, droning on a remarkably slow Spanish guitar fade-in before sliding comfortably into a quasi-Latin groove for which Pinetop Seven deserve royalties. The surf-informed guitars flutter with tremolo around Dan Schneider's everyman voice, but once again, something that seems pretty straightforward at first takes a strange twist, as the band begins a build at the five-minute mark that lasts all the way to the nine-minute mark, distortion creeping in around the edges and finally overwhelming the song in a thrashing climax that lets out with a stuttering cadence and a final vocal tag. It's stunning.
Unfortunately, the guys blow most of their load on that impressive opener, and the rest of the album has its share of filler, like the utterly MOR indie rock of "Silent Like Hands" and the wanking southern-rock jam that constitutes closer "Baionette". There's one more jaw-dropping song to be found, though, in "I Saved the Last High Style for You", a gorgeously tense nod to Black Heart Procession and Calexico that rests so precariously between sunny, rural prettiness and wrenching dissonance that it could constantly fall either way but somehow never does. The deep, groaning bass and doubled vocals conjure the coldest moments of Modest Mouse's The Moon & Antarctica, but I don't think I've ever heard a song that balanced contrasting elements quite like this one.
Which is all to say that Pedal Steel Transmission have some tremendous songs on their second effort, even if their synthesis of dozens of readily identifiable influences isn't quite yet complete. If they can somehow manage to spin their finest moments into the fabric of a whole record, it's going to make for one spectacular album. As it stands, Angel of the Squared Circle is worth checking out for fans of music that resides in the cracks between subgenres, if only to hear this album's highlights and incredible promise of things to come.
