Liars

For their fourth album, Liars, an abrasive NYC art-rock trio, tone down the extremist end of their sound (though it still rears its experimental head with the industrial clang of “Leather Powder” and the horror film echoes of “The Dumb in the Rain”) and attempt to bring their abrasive concepts into the pop landscape. They once seemed unable to find a trace of beauty to offset their bleakest moments, but here melodies emerge from the murky fog and create ominous, not offensive, environments. “Sailing to Byzantium” has the muted sense of Faith-era Cure, the keyboards gently surfing the consistent buzz. “What Would They Know” is closer to what those familiar with the group’s previous work might expect: tough, reverberated instruments blurring into vocals that chant and moan in disconnected emotion. “Cycle Time” uses layers of guitars for a Glenn Branca-like ambience. “Freak Out” suggests a modern psychedelia sans any semblance of flower power. Part Pere Ubu, part Sonic Youth, part Einsturzende Neubaten, even part Clientele, as an album Liars delivers a quick trip through the previous 25 years of truly alternative sounds with a small but essential dose of pop smarts lurking underneath the chaos.