Not as catchy from the git as Bossanova, which with eyeballs all over the cover and escape from terra firma all over the lyric sheet is risky if you want to get a rack jobber's attention or respect. But postpunk formalists-in-spite-of-themselves, a category that includes any consumer/tastemaker who's zoned in on 50 or a hundred relevant albums, would be fools to deny themselves the feast that awaits. These devilkins have the music down, and they never overstay their welcome. A-