Fear of Fours

1	Soft Mistake 3:16
2	Little Things 3:18
3	B Line 2:46
4	[Untitled Track] 0:07
5	All in Your Hands 4:39
6	Less Than Two 1:19
7	Bonfire 4:23
8	Ear Parcel 7:54
9	Softly 3:56
10	Here 3:22
11	Fly 5:13
12	Alien 4:06
13	Five 5:49
14	Lullaby 2:57

Barnes & Noble

Imagine a cabaret in the sci-fi future. Onstage a Björk-style chanteuse coos and thrums, slowly, methodically dissecting your soul with surgical precision. Behind a screen off-stage, some future-nerd works his equipment to conjure a ductile mix of house's fluid thrust, drum 'n' bass's tail-end quiver, and trip-hop's sneak-attack inverted grooves. This is the look, feel, and sound of FEAR OF FOURS, the second album by Manchester's Lamb. Like Morcheeba and the Sneaker Pimps, Lamb -- electronicat Andy Barlow and singer Louise Rhodes -- try to channel Billie Holiday's torch-song pathos through post-rave pop-funk, and they do it with drama and passion. Barlow's subterranean beats and jazzy bass lines create a dramatic context for Rhodes's at times sweet, often sinister singing. "Little Things" and "Softly" are elegant, edgy tunes that sound like classic pop without trying to cross over, and while the same can't be said for the club-footed "Fly," FEAR OF FOURS on the whole is one of the best post trip-hop records since Tricky's MAXINQUAYE. Jon Dolan

All Music Guide

While their debut was practically a revolution in the development of a satisfactory fusion of singer/songwriter vocals and drum'n'bass, Lamb's second album sets the bar much higher. As on the band's debut, Andy Barlow proves he's one of the most capable and inventive producers in the electronic community. He also still sounds inspired by the fiery side of bop as well as more muted chamber music, from the dexterous synthetic bass and intricate drum programs on "Little Things" to the restrained beats and orchestral tug of "All in Your Hands" and "Bonfire." Similar to the rather deflated return of Portishead in 1997, though, Fear of Fours suffers from Louise Rhodes' tendencies to play up her voice as a torch diva, overemoting and often coming off as girlish or whiny on many tracks. Thank goodness, then, for lengthy instrumentals like "Ear Parcel," which begins with the pastoral sounds of twinkling bells and croaking frogs but later whips up a few frenzied breakbeats as a bed for a sampled trumpet solo. John Bush