If you're the sort of person who likes to "file" albums under ludicrously specific (and frequently trite) sub-genre labels, you'd better start making up a bin card for "post-millennial easy listening" and clearing some shelf space for Pedals. Years from now, you'll pop Pedals in the player when friends come round for drinks, or use it as a post-coital backdrop when your parents take the kids and you've got a weekend alone with your spouse. It is, in other words, sophisticated and timeless, a glistening confabulation of Bacharachisms, eighties romanticism (think Spandau Ballet) and revivified Francophile swagger. "Rrose Selavy's Valise" addresses this last point directly, paying tribute to Marcel Duchamp, while "Easy On Your Eyes" digs itself deeper into nebulous relationship trickery. "Two-Bit Faux Construction" pairs new wave bleep-blips and synthesized drone with wry, catch phrase and product-name-dropping lyrics, and "A Blur In Your Vision" offers a lush palate of boudoir-friendly keys, vibes and strings. Brothers Frank and John Navin bolster their dry, understated vocals and lush, fulsome compositions with the talents of some high profile hired guns, including Sean (High Llamas) O'Hagan, Sally (Mekons) Timms, Edith Frost, Susan Voelz and the ubiquitous Doug McCombs and Jim O'Rourke. Credit Mr. O'Rourke with Pedals' more relaxed feel; released from the traditional pop song strictures that governed previous albums, these ten songs are free to sprawl across the sonic landscape, exploring roads previously not traveled. You, lucky listener, get to share this luxury. Enjoy.