Bedhead Transaction de Novo by Amy Briggs Trance Syndicate With Valentine's Day coming up, I thought it might be nice to find the perfect album for Charlottesville to kiss to. (Not that I am harboring any intentions or anything.) So I dove heart-first into a pile of new releases in search for the ultimate smooch-conducer. It was a lot harder than I counted on. You see, finding mood music is a delicate task; one can't really overlay charisma, cologne, and candy with Barry White or Prince. The concentration of sexual vibes might drown the Party-in-Question. Besides, everybody knows Cupid can't swim. But then again, try packing any innuendo into a song devoid of romanticism; all you'll be getting is a high-five at the end of the night, if you catch my drift. Obsessed with perfection, I found most of the new CD porridge too morbid, upbeat, sickly-sweet, mundane, or stupid. Days passed as I waited patiently. Finally, the clouds parted and tiny angels alighted at my feet, bearing Transaction de Novo, the latest release from Bedhead, a bunch of smart softies from Austin, Texas. Welcome to your complementary soundtrack for Valentine's Day. Pop it in your stereo, and you'll discover eerily beautiful musicianship paired with intelligence and introspection. "Exhume" and "More Than Ever," the opening tracks, wash away those nervous anxieties with a soft interplay between bass and guitar. (Lesson one: Uptight people don't usually have much success, so Bedhead has provided nine minutes of defrosting time.) On Beheaded and What Fun Life Was, their two previous full-lengths, the melodies started softly, yet sneaked into frenzied full-scale crescendos. However, on Transaction de Novo, Bedhead trades the volume for a more refined tension. This especially comes across in "Half-Thought": "I've forgotten to say so many things too many times / Complete all the half-thoughts that were only half-mine ... If I take my own advice / It will always only show the meaning it's lacked." Call it luck or fate, but for Bedhead the third time's the charm. Fast forward several songs through lit candles, dinner, and conversation. You probably won't be paying attention to the music by now, but subliminal messages never hurt anybody. Once you have worked your way down to "Lepidoptera," the winking eye and perpetual smile should be in full effect. During the hushed guitar solo, the party in question may retreat to the bathroom to make sure there's no parsley in his or her teeth, so practice making out on your arm. "Psychosomatica," the most aggressive track, is the perfect time to scoot a little closer on the couch; the fuzz pedal will back you here. Finally, "The Present" breathes the end to the evening with a scratchy cello hugging the guitars, a melody on the organ, and barely perceptible vocals. "Is it ever what I wanted? / Was I happy living in the past?" The screen fades to black. The audience sighs. There are no credits.

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