Since their 2002 debut in the heat of NYC's then-burgeoning post-punk garage rock scene, new wave foursome French Kicks have yet to hammer out anything beyond unremarkable white noise. A sleepy stretch of mediocrity that unfolds with lackluster monotony, Two Thousand once again fails to live up to the potential suggested by their One Time Bells debut. The opening tremors of tracks like So Far We Are and Keep It Amazed don't pay off -- catchy guitar chords and rhythmic punch and kick quickly give way to bland repetition and the suffocating vocals of frontman Nick Stumpf, who lazily moans his way through largely indecipherable lyrics, overwhelming any melodic potential. Two Thousand isn't a bad album; it's just an album. Remember in Sixteen Candles, when brawny Jake asks a fellow jock what he thinks of Samantha? The jock, midway through a chin-up, says simply, 'I don't.'
French Kicks play Lee's Palace Monday (September 11).