Ladytron try so hard. You've got to respect them for that. When the lights come up, they're picture-perfect Eurotrash popsters -- shadowy beings of studied boredom and copious quantities of eyeliner. Unlike their peers, so many of whom are willing to step outside their stylistic construct and enjoy the irony inherent in new wave's stylistic dead end, Ladytron play it straight. Their music is all electro, no clash, and they're living it in real time. They may even date their checks "1984".

Light & Magic is a more mature effort than 2001's 604: the arrangements are more complex, the melodies more satisfying and the entire venture feels more cohesive. Unlike its predecessor, Light & Magic wasn't pieced together from EPs, so the inspiration is distributed a bit more consistently.

Once again, Ladytron's two vocalists explore the fundamental dichotomy of new wave femininity. Mira Aroyo tackles her duties with the emotionless, asexual efficiency of an automaton; her songs, from the throbbing, "Warm Leatherette"-esque opener "True Mathematics" and the dissonantly gorgeous "Cracked LCD" to the Art of Noise big-beats and rabble-rousing rhythm of "Nuhorizons", are the album's most forceful moments. They're all about raw, blunt power -- squared-off edges and short, sharp blows denoting brute strength. Helen Marnie covers the other end of the spectrum: she's the pouty, breathy pre-teen disco queen, ruling a hazy, undulating wonderland of Human League/New Order melodies and broadly licentious grooves. She sounds like she exists only to please, and in songs such as the creepily-sexy "Seventeen" and the deliciously naughty "Evil", it's an offer that's hard to refuse. Ultimately, the album's even-handed mix of Marnie and Aroyo makes Light & Magic a tasty cocktail of fiery sensuality and icy perfection.

Daniel Hunt and Reuben Wu, who lurk, Svengali-like, behind Ladytron's wealth of keyboards and beatboxes, create a pulsating retro-techno playground full of champagne wishes and caviar dreams. The limits of their vintage gear become glorious advantages -- the crispy, low-tech Casio sampler on "Startup Chime", the proudly nasal blurp of "Black Plastic"'s elderly synth and the insulated beats of the chilly, Moroderesque "Cease2xist" perfectly embody the indulgent cheesiness of the pre-sampling era. Modern elements sneak into the sound -- "Startup Chime"'s angry beats, the Kid A moment at the end of "Evil", or "Cease2xist" and "Cracked LCD"'s processed guitar sounds -- but they're applied far more cautiously and subtly than George Lucas's CGI updates to the original Star Wars trilogy, intended to enhance the experience rather than revise it.

In the end, Light & Magic is still a new wave knockoff, less forward-thinking than many of the electroclash artists the group has inspired. But in a world that seems increasingly standardized -- designed to reproduce a consistent "human existence experience" anywhere we go via a slew of carefully-managed and branded economic opportunities -- there's something pleasingly human about it. In the eighties, bands like Ladytron were imitating machines -- but listen to a typical, Pro-Tools-assisted modern pop song and you'll hear machines imitating people. Which sounds more natural -- Mira Aroyo's icy monotone, or Britney Spears's eerily plasticized singing? Ladytron's bid for the hearts and minds of new wave nostalgists may seem calculated, but at least human beings are doing the actual calculations.