Tortured by technology and led through dark corridors by liquefied techno loops and rubberized EBM beats, White Car's debut album imagines a delightfully strange world where Princely R&B records are left in the sun too long, warping Elon Katz's paranoid-android vocals to the point of complete incoherence. Some stray phrases burst through the din like a demon, however, asking "What does it all mean?" or "How did you find me?" alongside synthetic melodies that seem to melt right before our eyes and ears. It's a queasy listen to say the least, living up to the Cabaret Voltaire reference in White Car's name and refusing to reveal its cards no matter how many times you take Everyday Grace for a spin. The only moment of clarity is on the broken-down ballad "Now We Continue," and even that seems on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Creepy yet crucial.