TV on the Radio

It’s finally official: TV on the Radio is no longer the hipster’s best-kept secret. After the critical acclaim of their second studio release, “Return to Cookie Mountain,” the band manages to live up to the hype on its follow-up, “Dear Science,” a work that is—surprisingly—a refreshing blend of experimental sounds and catchy hooks that don’t detract from the album’s overall artsy flair.

Already known for integrating various genres of music such as free jazz, a cappella, and punk, the members don’t stray very far from the aesthetics that solidified their reputation as one of the most innovative groups on the indie circuit. Synthesizers abound, vocals are distorted, and the choruses come like slaps to the face. Lyrics genuinely reflect the anxiety of struggling with identity in an increasingly sterile and industrialized society. In other words, it’s just TV on the Radio being TV on the Radio.

But a slight change can just barely be detected. Now, the band appears to be content catering to a larger, potentially more-discerning audience. Though the notion of creating popular music may be the bane of some artists’ careers, TV on the Radio finds nothing wrong with bridging the gap between the masses and the critics.

Musical elitism is shoved out the door in favor of tunes that could probably find a home in just about anyone’s playlist. The hodgepodge of sounds—ranging from techno to hip-hop to rock—works in tandem with the band’s overarching theme.

In “Dancing Choose,” lead vocalist Tunde Adebimpe raps, unfazed by the fast-paced, funky rhythm that lends this tune the futuristic vibe that makes itself heard on almost every song.

In contrast to the manufactured feel of “Dancing Choose,” “Love Dog” is an attempt to strip a song down to its bare essentials so that the lyrics can do the bulk of the work. The effect is unsettling, and the feeling must be mutual as Adebimpe croons, “Come lay me low and love me / This lonely little love dog / That no one knows the name of." Here, the pervading image of isolation and anonymity mirrors the underlying angst of a generation struggling to retain its individuality against the opposing force of conformity.

But before you assume that this is a band that takes itself too seriously, consider the infectious “Halfway Home,” the wisely-chosen album opener. An ominous drum rhythm reminiscent of Joy Division is juxtaposed with carefree doo-wops, and the effect resonates in such a way that even the most pretentious art house snob can’t resist the temptation to dance. The song’s light-hearted but haunting at the same time.

TV on the Radio distinguishes itself from other indie outfits by unabashedly acknowledging the issues that genuinely matter without proselytizing. And the band members know that’s just what their audience wants. No, this isn’t Bloc Party on steroids. It’s just what music in the 21st century is supposed to sound like.