Knodel is from France -- a future France, roughly twenty years hence, in which Phil Collins rules all. Clad in their white space suits, they've traveled back in time to present their doctrine, which consists of roughly equal parts Phil Collins-ism and free love.

Now, I don't know about you, but when I hear Phil Collins, his music typically induces the sort of really intense religious rapture that involves a lot of projectile vomiting. Perhaps aware that a full-on Phil Collins indoctrination could prove overly stressful to their would-be converts, Knodel have developed their own musical approach. On the surface, it doesn't sound a damn thing like Phil Collins...but once you listen between the lines, Knodel's intrinsic "Phil Collins-ness" becomes obvious.

Until you suss the Essence of Phil, you might be fooled into believing that Knodel are a peculiar sort of new wave band. Indeed, they sound a bit like a bouncier, Casio-toting Gary Numan crossed with Ween or the Flaming Lips, only more French. Aware that the modern listener has a short attention span, Knodel keep your mind on the message by mentioning themselves constantly; five of their songs include their name in the title, and their lyrics are similarly autobiographical. As such, when you're being bowled over by the brief sonic assault of "We're Knodel" or grooving around the room to "Knodel Dance Party," your head isn't full of vapid thoughts about parakeets or Saabs or macaroni and cheese; you're aware that this is Knodel, and that they're very nice, and that Phil Collins is truly wonderful and benevolent and probably wouldn't disapprove if you had sex with Knodel later.

The risk, of course, is that today's dull-witted listeners will miss the forest for the trees, accepting the evangelical White Hole as nothing more than another mindless-yet-catchy retro-new-wave album. That's where the brilliance of Knodel's plan really comes into play. Tunes like "Do It" and "Abraham A" are almost implausibily catchy; you'll listen to them again and again in your home and your car, slowly learning the lyrics and becoming receptive to their underlying message of love. Before you know it, you'll be accepting Phil Collins into your heart and home.

If you're properly receptive, The White Hole will be the last album you'll ever need to buy...which is a good thing, as there might be some costly "deprogramming fees" in your future.