Brooklyn trio Silk Flowers are probably never going to escape the spectre of their influences. Analog-y, downbeat electro-goth has a rap sheet too long. Silk Flowers have the fortune, however, of sounding less like a Xerox of so many legendary bands and more like one of their minor contemporaries: Silk Flowers feels less like the grand statements of Suicide, Cabaret Voltaire, or PiL and more like the quiet, parallel contributions from (to name two reissued examples) Ike Yard or White Noise.

It's not an issue of authenticity, because unless Silk Flowers actually live in a meat locker, sleep upside down, and feast exclusively on the discarded ink cartridges of 1980s fax machines, no one lives this life. But Silk Flowers' aggro-skronk machinations sound more legitimately humid and creaking than, say, the buzzed-over SALEM's "We take drugs, so many drugs even our moms and aunts know"-distensions. Nor is it an issue of fidelity; Silk Flowers' crusted-over instrumentation seems like a choice (Silk Flowers was produced by noted fuzz aficionado Fred Thomas of Saturday Looks Good to Me), sure, but it's one made by the album's instrumentation and atmosphere.

Silk Flowers' real talent lies in their ability to carve hummable, head-bobbing moments out of decidedly downtrodden elements.  Despite a list of influences eclectic and goth-y, and despite a singer doomed to Ian Curtis and/or Cookie Monster comparisons, Silk Flowers' pop instincts are surprisingly strong. Album opener "Flash of Light" pulses warmly, with symphonic synth patches providing soft footing for the singer's noir ranting. "Costume" loops a simple vocal-- "All over their hands"-- over a canned beat and tremulous high end. "Night Shades", wordless and giddily propulsive, stirs up a near-pogo-worthy burst of analog synth putty.

Silk Flowers also have the good sense to keep their anti-anthems short.  You might feel a tinge of self-consciousness listening to the punky, lo-fi bleat of "Cheap Shot" or dour whimpering of "Sand" ("I felt like I was drowning but no one heard my plea", rhymed later with, you got it, "eternity"), but you'll feel a lot less self conscious for three minutes than you would for six or seven. The whole of Silk Flowers clocks in at an almost EP-worthy 27 minutes, with only one track even approaching the five-minute mark.

It's a credit to Silk Flowers, then, that they've managed, via brevity and swampy pop moments, to craft a murky, legitimately spooky debut. Silk Flowers is modest in both aim and accomplishment, but it never feels forced, gauche, or needlessly retro-fitted.