hough symphonic progressive-rock of the bearded 1970’s variety has long fell off the chart of what’s discussed in polite company, it’s never gone away. In shrouded enclaves within Italy, Spain and—I’m guessing, here—Kansas, hirsute men have struggled to find the 1 in a bar of 7/8, unconcerned with the steady passage of pop culture outside their own windows. Thankfully Sweden’s Paatos isn’t as oblivious as all that, as they gamely try and work in hyperactive drum-and-bass beats and trip-hop torchiness with their old school art-rock. It’s an approach that works half the time, alternately striking and ham-fisted.

The electronic elements of the twelve minute closer “Quilts” actually work very well and the song ends being a dark, charging tune with a dubbish bassline and an extended drum-and-bass freakbeat. That then segues into a pretty intense breakdown with crashing drums and skronky horns and electric piano, going from the moody groove of Laika to the roiling turmoil of Bitches Brew-era Miles Davis when I really hadn’t it expected it to do any such thing. It’s very good.

Yet it isn’t until the third song on the album—which is only five songs long to begin with—that Paatos manages to sustain any such interest. Up until then the band squanders interesting themes by juxtaposing them with long-winded instrumental passages or watery melodrama courtesy of breathy front woman Petronella Nettermalm, whose wonderfully named husband Huxflux plays drums and provides dodgy English lyrics (“I’m a flower—smell me”). But “Tèa” has genuinely haunting themes, harkening back to the glory days of Selling England by the Pound-era Genesis, or early, mellotron-heavy King Crimson.

Though the art-rock that survived through to the Eighties tried to recast and streamline itself a bit —best typified by the original incarnation of the Scottish band Marillion—Paatos and their Swedish kin largely ignore that branch of the tree, eschewing the glossy synthesizers and opting for the warmer sound of pianos and Hammond organs. The band’s rich, embracing sound is the highlight of the whispery “They Are Beautiful” and the playing throughout Timeloss is superior, technically adept but also lithe and dynamic.

Originally released in Sweden in 2002, Timeloss is being released stateside by Inside Out, among whose roster lurk musty art-rock troopers as Steve Hackett, Steve Howe, and Asia. Paatos are clearly indebted to the bands founded by that crowd and have the ability to do more with the approach than just lovingly recreate it. As a fan of that genre’s indulgences, I am pleasantly surprised to find the template still in use and not sounding ridiculous. With a new album released on the heels of this reissue, hopefully Paatos can refine their sound and more successfully bridge the worlds they are attempting to put together.