Lately, there seems to be a formula for making a radio hit album. Give it a Franz Ferdinandesque backbeat, a sprinkle of whiny lyrics, and a shitload of influences that will please the shaggy-haired kid who still buys vinyl (assuming, of course, he even listens to the radio). And then, the final touch to our peachy keen delicious dessert: add a thick layer of shiny, saccharine production that could have been slowly forced out of a Duncan Hines red and white frosting cup.

This is not to say that all modern production is bad; I mean, how can I say that during a decade when the Neptunes exist? But a good deal of modern production scars and twists most radio-friendly music to sound, well...the same. And hey, I can't even fight about music which occasionally sounds the same; sometimes there's nothing more satisfying than listening to a big, steaming hunk of a Gary Glitter playlist. It was the sameness in Glitter's music which made it so appealing; almost always you knew it was him, and intuitively, a Gary Glitter fan could raise their fist in the air and yell, "YEAH" out their car window at those fucking self-righteous Zeppelin kids.

So why am I, an admitted Gary Glitter fan, against this modern trend which rears its head on most of the songs on Sound Team's Movie Monster? Because unlike Glitter, Sound Team doesn't trick me. I can obviously tell that Sound Team is an interesting band - I hear touches of Silver Apples, as well as some very, very, very gay-oriented electronic-based '80s band underneath that slick, "Woooo! I looooooooooooove U2!" production - and they deserve better. But what stands out on this release is the fact that producers so obviously know that most young kids don't listen to the radio to enjoy music. They listen to the radio as background chatter behind their cellphones or the sound of their friend's voice in the passenger seat. And unfortunately, for accompanying those inane activities and others, Sound Team's latest would work just fine.

Still, Movie Monster is an odd entity, because despite all of my consternation at its production, it's also a highly appealing album. Energy pulsates and crackles and consumes a listener underneath the surface. Listen to album-closer "Handful of Billions," which rises and falls with the intensity of a dangerous relationship: I know I should not love or even appreciate this song, but the more I listen to it, the more I want to hear it over and over again. "Handful of Billions" is the song that blasts through the radio and can become a five-minute, twenty-four second soundtrack to your life, as the car speeds beneath the gold-green city lights, the wind licks and runs her manicured hands through your hair, and your heart beats through your chest, into your throat, and reminds you as everything blurs and becomes one living breath for living moment, that you are alive.

And maybe a song like "Handful of Billions" isn't worth buying an album which encourages a much slower love affair, but at the same time, it is worth that 99 cents still lingering in an iTunes account. And from "Handful of Billions," there is definitely room to start falling in love with the rest of these songs. And if it wasn't enough? Well, if you will excuse a much-used cliche, it's better to have loved and lost, then to never have loved at all.

Reviewed by Megan Giddings