The Rogers Sisters – ‘The Invisible Deck’ (Too Pure) Released 27/03/06

Anyone who heard 2005’s ‘Emotion Control’ – The Rogers Sisters’ spasmodic fusion of rumbling alt. country and icily detached punk poetics – will know that the Brooklyn-based threesome make the kind of nonchalant hipster-rock that only ever comes out of New York. But this album takes that super-cool,  'you-talkin’-ta-me?' aesthetic, throws in a bunch of scuzzy guitars and some punk-funk vim, and rocks. Sort of.

Ok, we’ll explain. ‘The Invisible Deck’ starts off with a triumvirate of twitchy, delinquent fuzz-pop tunes. There’s ‘Why Won’t You’, on which the sole male Sister, Miyuki Furtado, spits schizophrenic lyrics, argues with himself and ends the song shouting ‘I’m gone!’ into a garage-y squall. Real sisters Jennifer and Laura take over vocal duties on ‘Never Learn To Cry’, and their sweetypie singing is the candyfloss coating to the song’s spiky guitar thrills – it’s like Veruca Salt fronting Bloc Party. Then there’s ‘The Light’, which has the Sisters pronouncing ‘No known diseases’ like they’re giving a clean bill of health at an STD clinic. A punk rock STD clinic, obviously.

After these crackers, the album takes a shadowy turn towards the (heart of) darkness. ‘Your Littlest World’ is primal, spaced-out acid-rock that sounds like the Jesus and Mary Chain getting stoned to the Velvets while watching 'Apocalypse Now'. The great thing about the Rogers Sisters is that even when they’re playing squarely within a much-referenced rock tradition like this, their fabulously artificial-sounding vocals manage to impart a nicely ironic edge, updating it instantly, rather than coming across as Black Rebel copyists.

But after the sucker-punch of the first clutch of songs, the album starts to run out of steam. One too many tracks full of mussed-up guitar dronery goes by, and art-rock fatigue starts to set in. As the Sisters themselves say on ‘Money Matters’, ‘I don’t care, it’s not enough, I want more’. The album’s palette seems too restricted for ten tracks, and you find yourself wanting something more: a tune maybe, or something beyond the uniform aloofness. Maybe, like the Babyshambles album, it would have made a better mini-album. But like we said, it still rocks.