The Whitest Boy Alive: the inimitable Erland Oye and co. return to teach us the Rules.

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An observation: I think if Erlend Oye were a type of fabric, heâ€™d be a smooth vinyl suede.

After all, the Norwegian crooner has made his career out of experimenting with various combinations of the synthetic and the smooth. The latest of these efforts is Rules, the second release from The Whitest Boy Alive, due out on Bubbles in March. The Berlin-based groupâ€™s 2007 debut, Dreams, was about as close as dance-rock can come to producing a concept album; the stripped-down guitar/bass/drums/vocals galvanized by spare, funky rhythmic consistency made for an album as danceable as it is listenable.

This sophomore release resists the temptation to rehash the formula and instead elaborates on that signature sound by way of more ambitious compositions and an expanded sound palette. Rules sacrifices some of what made Dreams such a standout, mostly in terms of restraint. Oyeâ€™s smooth but angular guitar phrasing is still insistently there, as are his haunting, ever-so-slightly-flat vocals, but they are augmented by a smattering of vintage synthesizers, fuzzy basslines, and lots of adrenaline-inducing dynamic shifts in the drumming. The songs are still irresistibly catchy and the lyrics wry as always, but nevertheless Rules comes off as less of a carefully-edited statement and more of an enthusiastic exploration of the possibilities of rebuilding on a solid minimal framework.

The Whitest Boy Alive – Island

_{You can purchase The Whitest Boy Alive – Rules by clicking here.}

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