Cyann & Ben are not a duo, as their moniker implies, but a quartet; if you're not a fan of Air, Daft Punk or Cassius, dispel your sneaking suspicion that deux Français + ordinateurs = merdes, you imbécile! Cyann & Ben have little inclination to make you dance, so sit down and pay attention. This is viscous post-rock with a warm breeze blowing under its skirt. Impressively, it's an engaging listen as well.

"Buick to the Moon" floats by on thick Kevin Shields guitars and gathers momentum only as the drums kick in. By then, you'll be too busy to notice, as the view is getting prettier by the minute. (On a sidenote, what is it with these artists heading to the moon in completely impractical modes of transportation? Cyann & Ben are taking a Buick, for God's sake. Long-time moon lover Thom Yorke is sailing there with Noah on his luxury ark. I'd wager a week of my Splendid salary that vehicles and ships just aren't going to cut it for them, but perhaps I just need to believe).

"I Can't Pretend Anymore" infuses a Jon Thor Birgisson-style choirboy vocal from female vocalist Cyann with Hammond organ and a skittering drum pattern not a million miles away from Elbow's "Red". The emphasis here is a reliance on the development of themes and motifs -- each one here as splendiferously original as a snowflake.

Layers of ambience during interludes are surprisingly interesting: "Selected Ambient Work" is a fairly obvious title for a track that shimmers with waves of echo and ambience -- an updated take on Aphex Twin's Selected Ambient Works, Vol. 2. The difference here is that Cyann & Ben are more relaxed when it comes to letting natural beauty percolate.

It's that rare thing: head music that is as primitively enjoyable and cathartic as bomb-diving into a bottomless pool of newborn baby angel tears (if you're Mason Verger, or perhaps Björk). Björk's influence is apparent in Cyann's inflected voice -- in the fire and snow duality that imbues Spring with a kind of Antarctic heat. There is certainly a rise in temperature as "A Dance With the Devil" pounds its way to a Doves-esque coda filled with real feeling and spunk -- something that's missing from the meandering tinklings and washes of contemporaries Múm and Boards of Canada.

So...electronic post-rock with warmth and soul, then. If you've stayed away from this type of music because you're worried it will lull you into a coma, then look no further for an entry point: Cyann & Ben sont la merde!