In America, the Halifax- and Toronto-based foursome Sloan is the proverbial Rodney Dangerfield of Canadian bands. At a time when the long-suffering Barenaked Ladies, and even the over-hyped Tragically Hip, are making waves on American charts and radio, Sloan gets no respect and remains hidden away in the Great White North (where, incidentally, they are huge -- gold records, gossip column fodder, appearances on TV and radio shows, et al.). It's hoped that will all change with the release of Navy Blues.

The band's fourth album is coming out through its own Halifax-based label, Murderecords, after, in yet another stroke of bad luck, its most recent American home, the Enclave, shuttered last year. (Sloan had previously parted ways with Geffen after lackluster sales of its grossly overlooked debut Smeared and its successor Twice Removed.) More so than on any previous album, Navy Blues finds each of the four members contributing his own songs to the finished product. The differences in styles of each are subtle but there, and instead of coming across like four solo artists jockeying for CD space, they've managed to blend their distinct approaches seamlessly.

Chris Murphy, lead singer No. 1, and Patrick Pentland, lead singer No. 2, share a pop-fueled vision, though Pentland's runs more butt-rock than Murphy's harmony-laden gems. The two trade vocal duties (teaming up on "Money City Maniacs," the first Canadian single), with guitarist Jay Ferguson and drummer Andrew Scott stepping to the mic on occasion. The album kicks off with Murphy's "She Says What She Means," an upbeat number with surprisingly sprightly guitar work. His catchiest offering is the love-inspired "Keep on Thinkin'"--sprinkled with generous smatterings of handclaps, oohs, and ahs, its spirited lilt is a two-and-a-half minute vacation to the land of '60s pop. And with "Chester the Molester," one can see why the lads garner frequent comparisons to the Fab Four-- clever word play, lovely piano, and a good beat, "Chester" has it all.

Pentland's songs always have a slightly harder edge to them ("Iggy & Angus," "Stand by Me"), though the pop sensibilities are still there, along with an obvious penchant for the guitar riffs of '70s anthem rockers. Curiously, "I'm Not Through With You," the album's closer, finds him singing comfortably in bittersweet, country-tinged territory with perfect longing. The Pink Floydian songs of Andrew Scott are a bit harder to get into, mainly because they are more complicated than their poppy neighbors. Though the breadth therein may not be apparent on first listen, his contributions (the epic "Sinking Ships," the languid and deceptively spaced out "Seems So Heavy," and the lush pop number "On the Horizon") give Navy Blues an added weight that helps anchor the breezy pop.

The album's paradoxical standout is "Suppose They Close the Door." Apparently spliced together from two different songs, the tempo changes are awkward and abrupt, but both factions of the track are equally compelling. The song starts out moody, eerie, and heavy on the organs, and is suddenly overtaken by jangly guitar wash, then flirts back and forth between the two. It would be interesting (and worthwhile) to hear each snippet stretched back into a stand-alone piece.

In keeping with its maritime theme, the overwhelming impression one takes away from Navy Blues is of hidden depth. The head-bobbin' pop will lure you in, but it's the substantial undercurrent that will keep you there.

- Kathy Mar

photo: Muderecords