The minute I picked up the new Trans Am album, T/A, I knew that the D.C trio had reinvented themselves yet again. In fact, since they put out their self-titled debut on Thrill Jockey in 1996, Trans Am has metamorphosed more frequently than Madonna in her infamous career as a pop diva. Indeed, none of their albums sounds the same. But this seems to be Trans Am's schtick: Trans Am have an incredible knack for twisting, exaggerating, and making fun of music trends to no end. And they spare no genre. To get a glimpse of their brand of humor, check out the personnel page of the website for National Recording Studio, with which all three band members (Philip Manley, Nathan Means, & Sebastian Thomson) play a role. The liner notes credit Jonathan Kreinek, the first name listed at the NRS site, with recording T/A.

Opening up the album sleeve, you see the three jokers in one photo dressed in all white: Thomson in a top hat; Manley in his white fully unbuttoned button-down shirt, modest chest hair exposed; and Means looking like he just popped off the set of LL Cool J's video for I'm Bad. Just out of a scene from Miami Vice or a bad knockoff on the USA Network, the three pose in front of a gleaming sunset on the beach — deadpan looks and surrounded by a sleek cherubic glow. In another pic, Manley's shirtless with a fatty gold chain circa-Run-DMC's You Be Illin' around his neck and Means is sporting a white headband that would make Jimmy Connors blush. A spot-eyed bulldog that reminds me of Spuds McKenzie is also perched atop a pedestal in the corner of the picture. These images set the stage for my expectations.

The album tees off with two ass-kicking stomps equivalent to the best tracks (I Want it All, Play in the Summer) off their most accomplished (and previous) album, Red Line. Cold War kicks it off with an arpeggiated keyboard bassline and pulsating kick drum that leads into a lingering distorted key line coupled initially with a standard rock beat. In a feat of superb production, Manley's haunting verses hover ominously over the Peter-Hook-like bassline and the über-kraut lead keyboards. Perfect also is the dark vocoder chorus chants of "It's automatic/it's symptomatic" and the ensuing the-party's-just-startin' bridge complete with pounding bass and the sounding of an urgent siren.