Jakuta and Carl's upbeat, lo-fi, digitally rigid and vocally operatic music achieves readings on the can't look away meter similar to those generated by a fifteen car pile-up on the freeway. We need to establish that point immediately, because by no stretch of the imagination is this "good" music, but it's endlessly captivating and strangely hilarious. Yes, when you listen to I, you'll sometimes feel that you're the punchline in Jakuta and Carl's little joke, but by the end, they'll have remained so slavishly true to their weirdness that you'll believe they're sincere.

The music, like the marvelous Postal Service, juxtaposes mathematical electronic compositions with emotive vocals -- but instead of Ben Gibbard's sensitive musings, you get Jakuta's explosive rambling. Have you heard Will Ferrell's impression of Robert Goulet? Jakuta sounds kind of like that, only less in tune -- and therein lies the element of Jakuta and Carl's music that makes them special but unlistenable. We are asked to believe that a guy named Carl is spending a large amount of time composing pleasant but complicated electro-pop and then handing it over to a guy name Jakuta who is given free reign to emote a messy blast of vocals all over it. Jakuta's singing is awful, but enthusiastic to a fault. He's not on key during intro "The Sun is Smiling", and he''s just as ridiculous during the expressive "What's That Dripping on My Head?"

Ironically, the album's one competent tune, instrumental "Part Two of a Three Act Whether Play", will make you yearn for Jakuta's absurd howls, if only because they sound like nothing you've heard before -- or will ever want to hear again.