Just to make things clear from the start: this is a great record. It's one of those minor masterpieces that exist under the surface of the officially sanctioned rock world. The problem is, it may be too much of a great record; its 28 songs (two of them unlisted) push it to the 73-plus minute mark, making Cuddlecore Galore an exhausting experience.

With their fuzzed-up spiky guitars backed by wonderfully retro drum computer programming and mad scientist synth squiggles, Logan Bros. Dan and Seke adhere to the tenets of the revisionist new wave craze with a joyful, infectious attitude. Sci-fi and B-movie references abound, from explicit opener "Fred Hoyle" to the childishly bouncy "Farmarama 2", enhanced with excellent vocal contributions from numerous female collaborators (especially the girls from My Bowling Trophies), all executed with a self-conscious wink to the exciting glories of sixties girl groups. Listen closely and you'll also catch nods to the futuristic pop of the late seventies, when preconceptions of gender roles in rock music were superseded by a refreshingly democratic, non-exploitative, non-patriarchal stance. Song titles like "Lemon Cakes & Compilation Tapes", "I'd Love To Write Cute Popsongs All The Time", "The Rise & The Fall Of New Wave" and "Indiepop Fanzine Subscription" also reveal an emphasis on smartness and wit in songwriting; it's clear that the Logan Bros. are devoted pop culture whizzes who cheerfully cull their influences from the indiepop canon. Cuddlecore Galore is not an opportunistic assault on the past by people who have nothing to say to the present; it's a careful, post-modern homage to the cultural roots the Bros. claim as their own.

Here's the problem: the disc's excessive length prevents us from better appreciating "Are There Giraffes In The Backyard?"'s naive Ladytronisms, the proto-industrial bleeps of "It's OK, It's Cool, It's Hell, But We Don't Care Anymore 2", or even the Bros.' irreverent, album-closing mockery of the infamous Dawson's Creek theme song, hidden away at the end of the record. There's simply too much of a good thing here, and somehow that abundance reduces the music's overall value. There are two excellent albums here, rolled up into one. The Logan Bros. definitely need to be reminded that less is more, but listeners needn't shy away from Cuddlecore Galore's abundant portions. Just pretend you're at a restaurant that serves massive portions -- there's nothing wrong with saving half of the album for later.