Many bands make music in the "classic" Beatlesque mode, but none have quite the bounce and sparkle of the Apples in Stereo--they make music as though A Hard Day's Night represented the height of rock n' roll achievement, and hell, maybe it does. With their bright, glittery sound, the Apples provide a refreshingly uncluttered approach to music-making, free of the phoney angst that afflicts most contemporary music like a rash. They're fun without being insipid, and thus likely to annoy the shit out of anyone who thinks music has to be angry to be good. Well, let 'em be annoyed.

On Her Wallpaper Reverie, the band moves its signature mid-sixties sound a few years ahead into the psychedelic era, coming back with a delightfully weird pseudo-concept album about all the odd things that happen while staring into the wallpaper. Though the pastiche here is deliberate, it never crosses the line into parody; you won't smile knowingly at veiled references to "Strawberry Fields" or "See Emily Play," and you may be surprised how much this album, despite its well-worn stylistic traits, sounds like no one else but the Apples.

The record is a lean 27 minutes, neatly divided into sides for that added bit of low-fi ambience. Like any good concept album, Her Wallpaper Reverie functions by a process of accretion, introducing and reprising musical themes to unify the album into a single work (or, alternately, to make you shake your head in a cloud of fragrant smoke and wonder, "Didn't we already hear this?"). The most persistent of these is the "Wallpaper theme," a simple, scalar piece played on what sounds like Schroeder's piano that recurs several times, its child-like crudity lending the album that air of wistful childhood reminiscence essential to the pedigree of any good psychedelic record. (Perhaps, someday, someone will conduct a study as to exactly how and why rock stars barely into their twenties suddenly become nostalgic for their grade-school years, which they invariably recall as full of magic and wonder while never mentioning the accompanying frustration, cruelty and boredom, unless they happen to be Brian Wilson.)

The first actual song on the record, "Shining Sea," is one of the best. Unhappy with herself (a character named Ruby is mentioned throughout the album, and it seems appropriate to assume the songs are from her point of view), the singer daydreams about escaping her cares to live under the sea: "I would do anything/to be anything else...Do sea creatures dream/of the shining sea?/No no no, no no no." With each barrage of "no," the reverie is burst and Ruby must start over in assembling the interior world she wants to live in. This see-saw of reality puncturing illusion, and in turn being replaced by further illusion, recurs throughout the album. In "Strawberryfire" (OK, so you might be reminded of "Strawberry Fields" after all), imagination takes over as we step back to watch Ruby's reverie from a safe distance. The tune pulses and pounds nastily, accompanied by a sneering, Lennonish vocal from singer/songwriter/guitarist Robert Schneider.

In "Ruby," Schneider assumes the role of Ruby's troubled boyfriend (one assumes) as he tries to tap her on the shoulder sufficiently to make her acknowledge him, wondering over and over, "Are you listening, girl?" Apparently, reality can't intrude that easily.

No album is too psychedelic to include a little social commentary, and Schneider takes keen aim at millenial paranoia in "Y2K," mocking those who put their trust in media fearmongers:

I know you believe
The fucked-up things that you read
Are gonna happen fast
When they come to pass
I know that you believed
That what you watched on TV
Was just another clue
They wrote for you-hoo-hoo

The album closes with "Ruby, Tell Me," in which Ruby and her forgotten lover are united again. Schneider avoids sentimentality here, hinting at a relationship more complex than mere infatuation ("so demure, such is your/strange allure") and ending the album with a surprisingly adult twist on the child-like whimsy that preceded it. The Apples may not be the most original band around, but they have a sneaky way of stashing surprises within the familiar and predictable--a neat trick, and one you'd do well to hear for yourself.