Having recently toured with club-pop practitioners Air, April March is the latest artist to emerge from the international cross-cultural pop underground. Her breathy vocals could be likened to Pizzicato 5's Maki; even her phrasing is fairly similar. The title track, one of several sung in English, spreads blasé vocals over layered analog-synths and moogs galore. "No Parachute" employs similar instrumentation to create a more upbeat, melodic dance number. Another standout, "Mon Petit Ami" has a strange sing-song quality to it, backed primarily by a simple, staccato drumbeat.

The darkly swinging "Gotham City Serende," opens the self-titled album with a punch—it's a love letter to Jake's adopted hometown. Lyrics like "I wish you could be here with me on this night in New York City/I wish you were standing here as Broadway opens up her arms," imply that perhaps the recently transplanted Jake wishes he had someone to share the Big Apple with. "Mercy for the Monkey Man" channels a demented rumbling burlesque groove—it's a rare song that fills you with the urge to strip while singing along about getting "monkey tail." "Let's Kill All the Rock Stars," is a rollicking, hilarious punk-swing number—the title is presumably a lifted quote from Courtney Love (or "Princess Smartypants," as she's referred to here).

The songs on "Two Cries of Freedom" are backed by nothing more than clapping hands, stamping feet, the occasional shout of response, and one, sometimes two, guitars. Serrano opens the album with "Bulerias" a seven-minute epic of subtly shifting speeds and moods. The guitar work is remarkable, the two instruments face off, joust, slide into a duet, chase each other through downward spirals as Serrano's vocals move from a traditional, florid flamenco style to a riotous, abrupt ending. His muezzin-like wail on the lamenting "Solea" recalls southern Spain's Moorish heritage over a minimal, stately guitar background. "Alegrias" would be a high-spirited dance tune if it weren't for the edge of melancholy.

"El Agujetas" comes from a long line of flamenco artists, but is far from the usual flamenco sound. In "Seguiriyas," his rough-edged voice drags out the words (sorry, no lyric sheet ) painfully, punctuated by sudden guttural cries over a simple single guitar. "Malaguenas" uses the same technique, but with even less guitar and more self-distortion on the vocals, sounding like the death throes of a wounded animal. The two vocalists join on the melodramatic "Fandangos," a song that cries out to be on a movie soundtrack.