French Alt-Rockers Phoenix Demonstrate How They're Not Creatively Bankrupt.

Care to sample the cosmopolitan world of European jet setters? You'll get your fill and then some with "Bankrupt!" the latest installment in the artistic lives of Phoenix, the Versailles, France four-piece band that dates back to 1999, a year when Ricky Martin unleashed the ultimate party anthem "Livin' La Vida Loca" on America's eardrums. Why the tangent? Because Phoenix offers exotic suave masculine pleasures in its own right. How about a quick hike to China? No budget for the real deal? No problem. "Entertainment", the opening track is a respectable substitute. All it needs is imagery of Kung Fu movies with godawful voice tracking. You know, where the lips don't match the speech. Laurent Brancowitz and Deck D'Arcy sprinkle out the seasoning from their keyboards as if they were Iron Chefs unafraid to test the boundaries of what makes too zesty an appetizer. If sluggish is your recurring nightmare, how about a slug of "The Real Thing". It plays off as Mr. Innocent but zooms from zero to explosive in a heartbeat. Thomas Hedlund, although not a credited member of the band, deserves due praise for the grunt work he puts in behind the drums. Chunky impressions between your ears are a foregone conclusion. If you really miss the forbidden fruit, earthy sensations of college rock radio from the early '90s, then "SOS In Bel Air is comfort succor indeed. Most alt-rock playlists would lap this riveting delight up from the start. Kudos for how touchable "Trying To Be Cool" is. By touchable I mean it's not so exotic that few programmers would touch this baby with a super-sized baguette. It's on this track where vocalist Thomas Mars gets to lean in a little closer and project every ounce of his man of mystery Euro persona all over listeners. Seduction is the key activity unfurling. The bass and alto guitars both crook their pinkies and offer the love-starved the hard-ons they crave most.Thank Laurent and Christian Mazzalai for that. Here the pacing is reasonably subdued but not so much so that you can't grab suitable whiffs of Mr. Mar's magnetic cologne. The playfulness is only underscored by a dizziness keyboard bombardment which gets itself organized to form a tight, electrifying acceleration of moods. Keys also star in the Phoenix parade during "Chloroform" which is too lively to merit that moniker and "Don't" which as an option for leisure listening is a surefire "do". Mr. Hedlund's drums chug along the Phoenix track without a hint of first gear ascending to dominate as the reigning speed level. Phoenix is to be commended for  its commitment to large scale, primary color, rock experimentation that refuses to muzzle itself. If creative bankruptcy is a commercial sin, then Phoenix doesn't have to kneel before a higher power anytime soon. The flavors are bold and hold up well long after the last drop slides down your throat.