'd say I know Lakewood reasonably well. Lying just beyond walking distance from my childhood home, I visited its thrift store, dollar theater, and Beta-to-VHS conversion facilities on various occasions during high school. As working-class business districts go, it did a fair job of keeping its head above water in the face of corporate encroachment and threats of forced relocation for its adjoining residents. I bring all this up only to address a quandary that's had me pretty well stumped for awhile now. Why is it, and I'm sure some of you must've seen or heard about this at some point, that only the most self-consciously difficult and academic factions of the indie scene try to claim allegiance with the proletariat? I'm talking about shit like Deep Elm's possibly ironic (??) decision to dub one of their early samplers Records for the Working Class and Sweep the Leg Johnny's preposterous proclamation that their music "exemplifies blue-collar Chicago." Whatever, guys. Personally, I can't see math- or post-rock signifying any kind of subculture, if only because its fanbase isn't substantial enough to qualify as such.


And while the title of Euphone's latest outing doesn't necessarily constitute another inexplicable blue-collar obsession, it did get me ruminating on the subject. The title does exude a downtown-residential type feel, evoking the kind of environment where there'd be far more stereos pumping out Cam'ron than Tortoise. Actually, now that I think about it, you'd probably be more likely to hear Cam'ron than Tortoise in most any environment. The same argument works for Euphone, as central player Ryan Rapsys deals in a similar vein of grad-level theoretical composition as his fellow Chicagoans. Yup, we got post-rock here, in all its overcalculated and forward-thinking glory.


Not that the designation will help much; not that it ever does. The Lakewood kicks off with a fairly standard math workout, "The Lakewood Burning Bad Boy," that emphatically lets you know you'll be enjoying some first-rate instrumental chops over the next 23 minutes. Passable stuff, but not powerful enough to dent the average Chicago-oriented indie rocker's poker face. It's a damn jarring gearshift from there to "Tools of Love," which drifts idly along on a couple analog synth chords and some fusion-influenced drumming and bassing. The barely-there falsetto vox suit it even better for your relaxing-in-a-darkened-room-with-mixed-beverage mixtape. (I can't be the only person who does that.) I wouldn't get too comfortable though, because "The Baldwin Wipeout"'s exuberant update of Charlie Brown's piano themes is more conducive to frolicking with cats than after-hours lounging. It's classical and virtuosic and all that, but not really my cup of espresso.


Okay, let's recap: so far we've nailed math-rock, space-rock, and piano-incidental music. What other dash-studded genre borders shall be trespassed in the remaining four tracks? For starters, "Homodulations" brings back some of the straight-ahead rock flavor we sampled in the first track and throws in some arrhythmic organ and more incomprehensible falsetto. There's an understated funk vibe on the verses as well, which acquits itself well in a rock context without sounding overly forced. "Fanfare" comes and goes without drawing much attention to itself, using only echoed drums, bass, and piano to evoke '70s fusion and maybe Neu!'s first record. Euphone then present a cover of John Coltrane's "Countdown," which they transform from a frenetic sax solo vehicle into organ-driven coffeehouse background music. They probably should've left that one alone. The journey ends with a dirge for cello, piano, guitar and a hint of drums called "Passing Notes" that reminds of old-school Tortoise.


And then it's over. Euphone stick to the stridently progressive principles that drive the Chicago underground, so I can't really call their work "average," but most of the tracks failed to move me significantly. These guys obviously have tons of ideas, and the arrangements and influences are all beyond reproach, but the record lacks the irresistable gravity of top-notch post-rock. So I'd say pick this up if you dig both Tortoise and Karate's recent work, but I personally found the wanton genre-juggling a little disconcerting. And I'm still confused about the economic status implications, but hey: I haven't been to Chicago since the late '80s. Maybe this boho stuff is what the Windy City's working class unwinds to these days.