The Ark - State of the Ark

The Ark comes in on a fading wave of electronic static, and they ride that neon surf until all that glitters is bold. Caroming off a line like “We’ll go shim-shim shammey and get whimsy and get whammy,” the lead singer Ola Salo makes tracks like “Clamour for Glamour” a blitzkrieg of fun, even if those bombshells might need to drop some acid first to be real hits. Of course, some of those hits are abysmal craters, and halfway through State of the Ark, the band tumbles into it, as if “Let Me Down Gently” were an imperative rather than a track title. For the next five songs, the dazzling explosions are muted, dim, and dull, and their spark and sizzle is lost, coasting on the waves they’ve already made. These drown-worthy songs are bad enough to make you want to bathe with a toaster; ironically, the other half is crazy enough to make you want to fuck one in glee. This Swedish group sings glam pop, with all the melodram"antics,” and they’re catchy to the point of insanity. They cross that line on tracks like “Hey Kwanongoma” that just repeat absurdities ad infinitum and belly-bottom smack rudder . . . you get the point. There’s nothing special about lyrics like “Gonna enlist every baldheaded chick with a dick,” and even less so when it’s accompanied by a sub-par synthetic riff. However, within their manic comfort zone—an area quite large, thanks to Ola’s sick, Mercury-like range—they’re able to put together some slick songs, and even a few stunners, like “No End,” the album’s penultimate track (a softer side you wouldn’t believe they have). Noah let the animals onto his ark two by two, and I guess The Ark did the same: Half of their tracks are just lesser versions of the rest. You may be able to sail this album through the storm, but if you have to listen to it for forty days and forty nights, someone’s going to die. [www.thearkworld.com]