God knows how Lotion managed to cajole acclaimed post-modern author Thomas Pynchon to write the liner notes for the band's new album, Nobody's Cool let alone how their music inspired him to write such literary blather as, "beneath the austerities of twelvetone music may lurk some shameless piece of Baroque polyphony." But the "how" isn't really important. What's more significant is "why."

Like Pynchon, Lotion thrive on artsy pretension. In the early days, vocalist and graphic artist Tony Zajkowski promoted the group's gigs on posters that subverted the band's name to fit the shapes of various corporate logos; guitarist William Ferguson once worked at "Esquire" and freelanced for numerous music magazines. The group even has its own design company called NO*IT*OL (Lotion backwards).

So it's not surprising that the band sometimes borders on sonic overkill, relying on five chord changes when three will do, or jamming on a rhythm for too long between verses. But for the most part, Nobody's Cool is a clever and captivating record laced with a biting cynicism that gives the band its edge and a pop sensibility that drives its tunes. Even though the record is peppered with dissonant passages and abrupt tempo shifts, the songs are always anchored by strong melodies.

Lyrically, Lotion toy with language and pop culture in a way Pynchon might appreciate. Nonsensical lyrics like "Screaming on the phone, the fear is gone/don't defend the killer/whisper in my ear is calling me from across the sea/underneath my finger," from "The New Timmy," may be a bit specious, but the band imbues the songs with the sort of mystique Michael Stipe sought on R.E.M.'s early work.

Speaking of R.E.M., it's impossible not to draw comparisons between Zajkowski's nasal tenor delivery and that of Stipe, but musically, Lotion's music is far too eclectic to fall into a niche. "Blind For Now" is upbeat and spangly enough to bring a grin to Evan Dando's face, while "The Sad Part" is more reminiscent of an introspective Bob Mould solo number. "The Enormous Room" swings quietly and passionately, sounding like a cross between Red House Painters and Codeine, and "Juggernaut" flip-flops from a surging, tumultuous rhythm to a pensive acoustic one.

Even when the band delves completely into the land of self-importance as on "Precious Switch," which features a five minute space jam full of twiddly guitars and plinking banjos, Lotion's commitment to and passion for their craft always shine through their indulgences.