The answer - well, I'm not so certain it's a clear “yes” or “no," to be honest. There is plenty on the disc that can be considered nothing less than thrilling - so many ideas and impulses have been indulged with such wide-eyed, frothing fervor that it would take a rather jaded listener to fail to at least admire these lads for their giddy flair for adventure. Further, it's definitely worth keeping in mind that this was recorded when the entire band was barely in their 20s - still are, in fact.

Fantasy Black Channel - for all of its daredevil sonic collisions and shrieking, flailing mania shoving everything along - maintains a surprising level of cohesion. There is a compelling flow from start to finish: once their wild frenzy gets started, it really doesn't let up until the disc's closing notes. That said, the band could perhaps benefit from just a little more focus next time round. Their debut is an ecstatic, elastic mess, but in the end, it's still a mess.

Listening to them revel in the unexpected remains largely a joy to these ears, but I can't help but daydream about what they might do next. After a couple of spins, it becomes quite apparent that this a band which can play genre-hopscotch rather artfully and skillfully - glam rock, hair metal, post-punk dance, and new wave are just a few of their regularly visited touchstones, and they handle them all convincingly. With this versatility in mind, who's to say that their next release might not turn out to be a complete departure from their debut? Perhaps this is reason for all of the hype: in the recognition of their enormous potential.

And yes, there is a great deal here to send listeners' ears into joyful twitches. Despite their relative brevity - most of the tracks here clock in under four minutes, hardly a common feature in dance music - Late of the Pier's offerings lean towards complex, multi-segment arrangements, bristling with quick transitions and startling diversions. A song might begin straightforwardly enough as a L.C.D. Soundsystem/Rapture-indebted slab of dirty-bass dance-punk, but it could just as easily corkscrew off into glam-operatics a la early Sparks or Queen, or perhaps the New Romantic razzle-dazzle of Ultravox.

Impromptu percussion workouts, with elements of Afro-funk popping up now and again, appear out of nowhere, as do equally unforeseen ambient interludes. Video game synth bleeps fire unrelentingly, glam metal guitars race ridiculous arpeggios from speaker to speaker, and vocals spiral into deliciously unrestrained falsettos. As many of these aforementioned components would suggest, the boys aren't afraid of indulging their arena-rock proclivities, and thus sometimes conduct themselves with same sort of electro-bombast as Justice - dance music as big dumb rock, more or less. Still, I wouldn't paint them too thickly with that brush - repetition and predictability are two key elements to the big dumb rock formula, and this Castle Donington band appears to have little use for going for the obvious.

A gloriously, monstrously ridiculous glam-metal guitar instrumental, “Hot Tent Blues," opens the disc; loaded with crashing drums and slow-crawling, pyrotechnics-sparking intent, it's a grand gesture, full of promise but leaving me with just a touch of trepidation. (Dabbling in glam-metal overtures can be a risky proposition, after all.)

Its followup, “Broken," is a slight letdown after such a glittery initial announcement - fine on its own merits, but a weak link in consideration of what else is found here. The disc regains its stride with “Space & The Woods," a nervy number powered by nagging snyth and hyper-bass rumbles that envisions a more human incarnation of Pleasure Principle-era Gary Numan: “Suicide is in my blood / it always was.”

Got wood: “Space & The Woods.”

Tribal percussion (pounded on wooden pipes, maybe?) gives “The Bears Are Coming” the occasional whiff of Adam and the Ants, but there are oodles of other competing flavors mingling amongst the song's curiously charged particles: nasty burping bass synths and whinnying keys, freaky alternate-universe doo-wop backing vocals, shatters of broken glass, and countless tempo changes make this track a disc standout.

Bear with me: “The Bears Are Coming.”

With its haranguing guitar melody, super-fuzzed bass, and eerie falsettos, the next song, “Random Firl,” is relentlessly catchy and strangely sexy, but “Heartbeat” is less successful - a shame, considering its initial join-up of cheesy '80s synths (think Laura Branigan, perhaps) and chugging, moody guitars is a potent blend. Unfortunately, the track is cursed by a hamfisted chorus which drags the proceedings perilously close to Killers territory - some arena tendencies are best left unvisited, apparently.

Late of the Pier redeem themselves with two particularly inspired forays into the ridiculous, however: “Whitesnake” (a tribute to the band?) and “Focker.” The former opens amid innocent flourishes of ambient synth twinkles, but quickly devolves into a spectacular display of arena-rock guitars, caterwauling vocals, and the unrelenting torrent of keyboard blips and bleeps. The addition of an insistent piano riff is a nice glam-rock touch, and ultimately the song launches itself into such theatrics that it manages to evoke both the Darkness and Justice.

“Focker” takes this approach one step further, hitching near-deranged vocals to endless layers of squirming, squelching electronics and doomy piano textures. The squealing guitars might be largely absent, but Late of the Pier craft a whole other breed of heavy with barbed-edged stabs of feedback-stacked keys. Idiotically brilliant, and quite the coup for these first-timers.

LATE OF THE PIER
With the Whip
April 16, 9 p.m. doors, check site for price
Popscene
330 Ritch, SF