Arular

1	Banana Skit 0:36
2	Pull Up the People 3:45
3	Bucky Done Gun 3:46
4	Fire Fire 3:27
5	Freedom Skit 0:42
6	Amazon 4:16
7	Bingo 3:12
8	Hombre 4:02
9	One for the Head Skit 0:29
10	10 Dollar 4:01
11	Sunshowers 3:16
12	Galang 7:21

Barnes & Noble

Tough-talking rhymes about revolution, freedom fighters, and sex; rude-boy patois straight outta South London; and garbage-can grimy beats all come wrapped up in the colorful, comely package of M.I.A. -- also known as Maya Arulpragasam. A 29-year-old Londoner of Sri Lankan extraction (her father was a Tamil Tiger separatist), M.I.A. made waves in 2004 with "Galang," a single that folded in elements of dancehall, "grime" techno, South Asian percussion, and '80s-style pop à la Malcolm McLaren's "Buffalo Gals" with her hyperactive, multivoiced chants and rhymes. It was so inescapable in the U.K. that the backlash had begun there before her debut was released in the States. Arular expands on the promise of the 12-inch with twitchy, distorted beats and socially conscious observations ranging from the wry (the immigrant blues of "Banana Skit") to the weird (the Patty Hearst–like abduction tale "Amazon"). Arulpragasam takes most of her political cues from Chomskyites such as Asian Dub Foundation -- come to think of it, she takes their South Asian-by-way-of-Jamaica toasting style, too -- which can ring harsh to American ears ("like PLO we don't surrend-o," she promises in "Sunshowers"). Likewise, M.I.A.'s rude-girl stance is a pose that might be too strident for a country in which Pink and Cristina Aguilera are "rebels." But the vivacious, girly vocals flirting around the clanging, clamorous beats make Arular intriguing and ultimately addictive. Mark Schwartz

All Music Guide

A cursory listen to Arular makes one wonder how it could generate so much heated, in-depth talk, as it did well before its official release. This is very direct and physical party music, with lots of slang-filled phrasings that might not have any more meaning than "The roof is on fire!" or "Dizzouble dizzutch!" to Americans. It's music that is conducive to dancing or doing other carefree things in the sunshine, rather than what you should hear most often through feeble computer speakers in dimly lit rooms. So why bother discussing it at all? Well, below the surface is a lot more than anyone's basic idea of a good time. The blend of styles -- a dense, often chaotic collage of garage from the U.K., dancehall from Jamaica, crunk from the Dirty South, electro and hardcore rap from New York, and glints of a few others -- is unique enough to baffle anyone who dares categorize it. Beats crack concrete in whomping blasts and scramble senses in exotic patterns; flurries of percussive noise, synthetic handclaps, and synth jabs add chaos; exuberant vocals are delivered in a manner that will be frequently unintelligible to a lot of ears. More importantly, once all the layers of rhythm and accents are peeled away, you'll hear that Maya Arulpragasam -- the London-based woman of Sri Lankan origin who, along with a host of fellow producers, is behind the album -- has a lot more on her mind and in her past than fun, even when she's only alluding to the violence and strife her people have endured. The images that adorn the cover of the album aren't present merely for the sake of design, either; the tanks aren't a nod to the No Limit label. (Enter 10,000-word history of pre-tsunami Sri Lanka here.) The one key definite about Arular is that it's the best kind of pop album imaginable. It can be enjoyed on a purely physical level, and it also carries the potential to adjust your world view. Andy Kellman