ambient soundscapes, Velocity Girl writes conventional rock songs on conventional rock instruments. This approach infuses the music with a rawer feel and greater sense of dynamics.

Still, some unsurprising indie-rock influences crop up on Copacetic. Perfunctory Velvet Underground-isms appear in the quietly melancholic "Here Comes" and in the clubfooted Mo Tucker thud of "Pop Loser." There's also a shade of postpunk hero Fugazi in the martial drums, discordant harmonics and aggressive staccato bass line that open "A Chang." Yet VG is one of the few groups able to acknowledge rock's roots without sounding derivative, like when it sprinkles Sixties girl-group "la-la-la's" over "Pop Loser" or anchors "Catching Squirrels" with a Bo Diddley beat.

While guitarists Archie Moore, Brian Nelson and Kelly Riles create a dense web of dissonance and jangle, vocalist Sarah Shannon's willowy soprano dominates Copacetic's sound. An odd instrument, Shannon's voice manages to be both lilting and restive, never quite defining its emotional stance. Copacetic's songs don't seem to be about anything, and if they are, Shannon's operatic phrasing and the deliberately low-fi production make it almost impossible to tell. When the occasional lyric pokes through, it's often a snippet of restless, unrequited love. Yet the album's overall meaning comes not from the individual songs but from its awkwardly interlocking parts coming together as a whole.

The shifting tone and feeling suggests Copacetic is about coping with the unexpected. The cumulative effect is of a band that doesn't know where it's going but plows full steam ahead anyway, exploring every possible avenue along the way. (RS 658)

MATT DIEHL