Cornelius, "point"

Japanese pop music is a post-modern theorist's dream come true. From little girls singing punk rock, to rockabilly revisionists toying with white noise, to has-been heavy metal stars finding success well past their half life, Japan offers an enticing collision of cultures that frequently results in music Warhol and Duchamp would have loved.

At the top of the heap may be Keigo Oyamada, also known as Cornelius, whose skill with the stylistic blender has helped give shape to Japan's Shibuya-kei scene (and Beck a run for his money). "Point" is Cornelius' first album since 1997's breakthrough "Fantasma," and, showing signs of growth, the disc is a slightly less jarring joyride of juxtaposition than its predecessor. But only slightly.

Cornelius makes no distinctions between an ambient slow jam like "Tone Twilight Zone" and a metallic rave-up like "I Hate Hate," and by leapfrogging from genre to genre. he reveals little honest affection for any of his confections; the album sounds cool, but it also sounds cold. Yet whether combining rich harmonies with weird, Can-worthy rhythms ("Smoke") or offering funky, acoustic guitar-led dance vamps ("Drop"), "Point" comes across as a consistent and somehow even cohesive exploration of Cornelius' diverse talents.

Still, it would be nice if he knew just where to draw the line between appealing and annoying. If his robo-cover of "Brazil" could be construed as little more than harmless kitsch, "Nowhere" manages to combine the relative merits of Hawaiian slack key guitar, the theme from "Star Trek," and a hearing test -- a dubious achievement if ever there was one.