STEREOLAB - MARGERINE ECLIPSE

I barely know anything about Stereolab. I don't know the entire lineup of band members. I've never seen them in concert. I don't even own all of their albums. But even in failing those tests of true fandom, I can easily say that Stereolab is, hands down, one of my favorite bands.
That's what amazes me most about them,.. the fact that they can hit the music snob in me on such a base level. I can appreciate their work to a point where the look and attitude of the band itself is forgotten, and I'm only concerned with the idea and feel of their sound. And that sound is carried on flawlessly in Margerine Eclipse, their latest LP on Elektra/Asylum Records.
Thirteen years after the band's inception, this album is a lovely next step in their discography, pouring over with the '60s space-pop and whimsical "What language is that?" vocals that have brought them this far. From start to finish, it's a lightheaded flight through odd pings and plucks, soft drumming, and seamless, head-bopping transitions.
Despite being their first full-length release since the 2002 death of singer/guitarist Mary Hansen, the remaining members of Stereolab manage to imbue something in this disc that makes it similar to previous albums, yet completely new and beautiful in its own right. The approach and production here brings to mind the conceptual genius of musicians like Beck, The Beta Band, and Air. It's also a great reminder of why bands like this never end up in the pop/rock section of my mind. Rather, they remain in a well-lit corner of the brain among a minority of things I find wonderfully undefinable.