The Chemical Brothers
Come With Us

All right, bring in the new blood. Due to the relative youth of techno music, it’s not a surprise that dance bands have relatively short careers. But when one of them gets long in the tooth after just a few albums, it’s depressing. “Come With Us,” the fourth original release (not including their impressive mix CD Brothers Gonna Work It Out), by Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons, a.k.a. The Chemical Brothers, is mainly a hollow shell of their previous work. Hardly progressive and hardly surprising, the CD doesn’t exactly suck, but being predictable and obvious is nearly bad enough.

So far removed from their towering masterpiece Dig Your Own Hole that you’d think it was made by a rip-off band, “Come With Us” is pretty bare of interesting samples, instead overrun with treble-heavy blips and droning drum loops that sound like the ones you can program on a $100 Casio. Previous release Surrender pared down the rock-and-roll flavor for a subtler but still cool sound, employing a soft musical approach to techno. But here, almost all traces of originality are gone. Initial songs like the title track opener and “It Began In Afrika” are pleasant but derivative, and the following ones, like overrated club favorite “Star Guitar,” are either irritating or anonymous, proving that some techno fans are easy to please.

Things start to pick up with vocals, like when “The State We’re In” utilizes the Brothers’ favorite guest Beth Orten’s sweetened lungs. “Denmark” finally brings some energy to the record -- momentum that is quickly deflated by the ironically-titled “Pioneer Skies,” a track which blazes no new trails. However, saving the album from despair is the closing track, “The Test.” This blast of brilliance is so fresh and invigorating, it ranks with epic classic “The Private Psychedelic Reel” as one of the best Chemical tunes to date. “The Test” would be explosive enough as an instrumental jolt, but adding to the mix is Richard Ashcroft, lending his sexy-as-fuck voice to the beat like the twist of lime in a gin-and-tonic. The eight-minute trip builds upon the blistering tempo of a jet-fueled guitar loop, until the detonating bass sends Ashcroft’s the-drugs-worked-like-a-charm lyrics into space. “Did I pass the acid test?” asks the oft-repeated chorus, and the answer is hell, yes. Unfortunately, this groovy number finishes the album when it should kicked off the record it promises but never delivers. Hopefully, it signals that Rowlands and Simons still have something left in the tank and aren’t dying off as fast as it appears.

4 blips out 10