It burns like the tip of cigarette. Lit by sonic revelation, extinguished only out of respect for the pseudo Roman gods presiding over the medium, the shoegazing noise blankets of the past two decades have produced experiences complex and contemporary, music that’s technically vast and maddeningly overwhelming, yet alluring and accessible. In short, where classical and jazz musicians have abandoned us as a generation, the wall-of-sound magicians have filled these voids as well as they can.

Recently, I felt a little–okay, a large–part of me uncontrollably elated when Kevin Shields spoke the five words that could brighten any alt-rock fiend’s day: another My Bloody Valentine record. However, trailing in the wake of this elation was an augmented sense of bemusement and loneliness. Part of this feeling came from reading further into Mr. Shields’ statements and realizing that the world’s coal reserves may run out well before the third part of the MBV triptych is unleashed. Yet part of this feeling came from this feeling that I was putting all my eggs into one basket. One very slow-working basket.

This is where Autolux comes in. Creative impotence seems to have struck the potential shoegazers of the universe, with the shadow of Shields looming too omnipotently over every track with even the slightest intimation of a fuzzbox. Yet here’s this Los Angeles trio audaciously marching down the proverbial empty street. 2004’s Future Perfect, the band’s debut album, splashed and spread like a hot blue flame on the alt-rock landscape. Songs like “Angry Candy” reveled rather than hid from their pop-heavy, not always sensible lamentations. “So you missed the getaway / And you’ve crashed the stolen plane / Now everyone can say” doesn’t exactly explicate the already equivocating verses. However, at no point does Eugene Goreshter, lead vocalist and bassist, shrink away. In fact, there isn’t much of the demure, heroin-flavored self-deprecation at work here, but rather a more cocaine-in-the-city-lights exuberance, especially as Goreshter engages everyone with his sing-songy hoot to cap off the chorus.

A song like “Sugarless“ really shines under T-Bone Burnett’s production, which captures the slightly askew, somewhat imperfect side of shoegazing. Lines like “Impossible day / I don’t complain / I’m over it, I guess” capture the band’s freedom from the perfectionist pretensions of the genre. “Turnstile Blues“ bathes itself in this. There are some stumbling chords kept in their fallible form, some shaky overdubs, and a few arrhythmic transitions. Yet listen to it culminate. It feels like childbirth for the ears–loud, intriguing, visceral.

With the mid-summer release of their sophomore effort looming, it’s difficult not to think that this, not MBV’s phantom album, will have the more substantial implications for the genre. Think about it. What would be better for the genre than some diversity, some new blood rising to prominence? And better yet, how about some resurrections (Bethany Curve, Catherine Wheel, Ride) and some returns to form (Slowdive)?

It’s not so much that Autolux is the second coming of MBV. They’re not. For one, it seems they’re most comfortable being ascribed to the noise pop appellation. To-may-toe, to-mah-toe.

Regardless, it needs to be known that they’ve simply did the job that nobody wanted to do anymore. And they’ve flourished. They’ve kept alive the spirit of an incredibly important and artistically significant kind of music. And in spite of whether they are cognizant of this or not, they’ve charmed me already.

[buy stuff here]