It's not like I'm some sort of sizzling floozy or anything; I just like checking out new sounds. You could say that I like to get around in the music world. Quite frankly, I've been quietly stalking Japanic and the band's no-wave rebirth of keyboard driven quirkiness for a while. So, I wake up one morning with some sort of strange rash. I'm itching and my, uhm, area, is burning like nothing I've felt before. "Maybe I should've covered that public toilet seat after all," I think. After deliriously stumbling about with my CD player remote control dangling from my left hand, I realize that it's not just another episode of late night debauchery that I've caught -- it's something much more deadly. It's something I won't be able to shake. I have picked up the latest from Tex Kirschen and Co. I have contracted The Social Disease. That's the last time I pick up an unprotected package from the U.S. Post Office.

Now before you go looking for that old tube of prescribed ointment that you used for, er, your last blurry-eyed move, or go crying to your nearby community-type doctor, realize this: Japanic's latest offering not only continues their fabulous blending of no-wave, keyboard frenzied madness, but stakes out new territory with a bit of honest-to-goodness soul shaking and a highly revamped focus on well-developed choruses. Simply translated, they'll leave you scratchin' for more as your body twists and contorts itself in true rock 'n' roll fashion, dirty and uncontrollable with a casual Motown affectation. Yup, Japanic are not only contagious, but practically impossible to rid yourself of once you've encountered them.

Aptly titled, "First Aid" scores a self-healing aural wound upon your ears with clean and trim guitar, while dual vocals from Margeaux and Tex do a magnificent job of scouring the airwaves of any impurities. Yah, maybe the boils I picked up aren't too pleasant to look at, but it was worth it to hear "The Kiss of the Zero Pilot" syncopate drums and keyboards into a blissful balance of nerdy, roboticized mayhem, restrained with a methodical approach that creates a familiar and likeable mood. As a matter of fact, the entire CD flows quite fluidly, with a distinct mood and direction -- the sign of a band that has found its higher calling and can exploit it to the fullest extent.

It's The Social Disease, alright -- one whose venom will race through your veins with one goal in mind: to get your body grooving. Hey, I try not to be a judge of character, but a good listen to this disc will have you talking to your local rabbi/priest in no time, dishing out confessions of your sinful behavior. Exorcism or heavy medication won't rid you of Japanic, but you'll be quick to realize that this disease is one you won't mind keeping.