There is a new sound out there, a sound based on a whole world of old

sounds. It's the thrum of bands pulling from the melodic archive or

following the lure of technology — anything at all, as long as the end

result grooves.

This musical grab bag has been infusing excellent recent albums by acts

such as the Beta Band, Add N To (X), Death in Vegas and now Slick Sixty,

too.

The British trio's debut, Nibs and Nabs, is the kind of eminently

enjoyable record that puts the fun in funky. Operating in a slightly lo-fi

and definitely downtempo area somewhere between hip-hop and house, its

beats are crispy, its musical themes resolutely melodic, and, like a

benevolent uncle, the cyclical nature of the twelve-bar blues hovers

pleasantly throughout.

Over these clearly defined blueprints, guitars lick, basses buzz, electronic

effects appear unexpectedly, vinyl is scratched in and out in the manner

of drum rolls, and lazy trumpets lift the whole thing skyward.

Although comparisons can be odious, there is much about Slick Sixty that

brings to mind Air. The French duo worked previously as architects and

brought that awareness of structure to their music. Two of Slick Sixty

are graphic designers; their songs are suitably visual as a result. Both

acts set analog synthesizers and basses to modern beats.

The opening track on Nibs and Nabs, "Hilary, Last of the Pool

Sharks," has the same slow, mellow and melodic opening as so attracted

first-time Air listeners to "La Femme D'Argent" on that group's debut

album, Moon Safari, last year. Nibs and Nabs, a compilation

of Slick Sixty's first singles along with a couple of remixes, even hits

stores at the same time that a retrospective of Air's earliest works is

due.

Slick Sixty, however, are more upbeat than their French cousins, even

when working in slow tempos, and they also feature fewer vocals. In fact,

the only non-instrumental tracks on Nibs and Nabs are "God's Own

Dustmen" (RealAudio

excerpt), which features something of a tuneless rant; "Mungo,

Return of the Master Blaster" (RealAudio

excerpt), with its frivolous high-pitched techno-rap; and the

standout single "The Wrestler" (RealAudio

excerpt), which raps, or rather rambles, using that once forgotten

but now almost omnipresent vocal effect, the vocoder.

A stellar introduction, Nibs and Nabs serves to remind that modern

music can be atmospheric yet melodic, instrumental yet visual, rooted in

the blues yet futuristic and humorous while inherently credible.