Perhaps the coolest thing about doing Splendid is that because we review every CD we receive, we get music from all over the world. Almost every day, nestled among mailers from Triple-X and Matador and Moonshine and Touch & Go, there's some tightly-wrapped nugget of fun from Belgium, Japan, Australia or Sweden, unfamiliar stamps hinting at mysterious wonders within. However, we'd never received anything from the Czech Republic until Timestorm Was the Signal appeared in the mailbox. Exciting, no? The only thing I knew for certain was that, given the tendency of most Eastern European names to sport a whole mess of obscure accent symbols, I'd be digging out my faithful HTML extended character set guide yet again -- though when I did, I discovered it had finally met its match. These guys' names use accents so obscure I can't display them. Sorry, Waawe.

None of this, of course, should matter to you. "What does it sound like?", you're undoubtedly wondering. And that's where things get a bit tricky.

If you listen to Waawe with only half your attention, you're going to write them off as another emo band. They've got the loud/quiet/loud guitar thing going on, and the strained vocals too. But they're not throwaway punk rock. There's too much going on here. Perhaps there's a little emo in the group's foundation, but it shares space with a healthy accumulation of prog rock. Waawe starts with the same basic building blocks that Sunny Day Real Estate used to create The Rising Tide, but -- and this is important -- they leave out their egos. A penchant for instrumental cross-pollination doesn't hurt them either, as Timestorm Was the Signal bristles with unexpected musical voices and combinations.

In addition to jagged, fevered guitar leads that'll send chills down your spine, Waawe roll out the accents: a surprisingly effective blues harmonica counterpoint on "Sunset City", plaintively jazzy horns on the post-rockish "Electra" and "Cut Song", lilting flute and martial drumming on "Ecstatic Rhythm" and most intriguing of all, a didgeridoo on "Krankreich" (and "Dogma"/"French Dog Massacre", if you turn it up loud enough). Vocalist Patric Kucera's soulful wail is far more Robert Smith than Robert Nanna, further striating the group's sound. At their poppiest (perhaps the jaunty "Slowly Goes the Night"), Waawe remain edgy and unsettling. At their most bleak -- a hard point to award -- they're capable of moments of spine-tingling beauty. Listen to the first minute of "Dogma", which introduces "French Dog Massacre", and see if you don't get the shivers when the bells come in.

There's no doubt that Waawe have been informed and influenced by American indie rock trends, but they've made the sound their own. There's a great opportunity here for the right US label -- license these guys and market them to SDRE fans. You'll look really cutting edge and Waawe will get the attention they deserve, while the listening public gets a great album. Everybody wins.