The Bird and the Bee The Bird and the Bee

In the post trip-hop era, jazz-tinged indie pop has become quite the thing; from Zero 7's chilled take on things to the unholy Jem's unit-shifting polystyrene for the ears the fusion has produced a few hits and several misses. Californian duo, The Bird and The Bee's eponymous debut, while not exactly earth shattering, is one of the more welcome additions to the genre.

Off kilter lyrical observances such as "all our moments have just become ailments" are perhaps not a surprise given that Inara George is the daughter of Little Feat originator Lowell George, which may also explain The Bird's musical eclecticism. And Greg Kurstin, a multi-instrumentalist, jazz pianist and producer who has worked with Lily Allen, Beck, and Nelly Furtado, seems a perfect foil for her, providing jazz piano and bass and endless synthesised noodling.

Opener Again and Again melds dark fuzzy verses and bubblegum light to great effect, and the bittersweet lyrics "say my name say my name say my stupid name, it's stupid how we always seem to do it again, it's so stupid and perfect stupid and perfect" match the happy/sad tone perfectly.

The Bird and the Bee updates the sound of 1950s torch singers with synthesisers, but captures the lounge jazz style with great effect. Inara George's indolent pondering of "why do the bees need a beekeeper" is suitably loopy, but listless and assured, and reminiscent of Peggy Lee.

To some extent, the album seems to be a checklist of things the duo can do - girlgroup pop (tick), classic lounge (tick), fizzy girlie dance (tick) - and listening to it I became acutely aware of what they were trying, and to be fair, succeeding to do. It all seems a little contrived.

The album does have its moments, though, and stand out track My Fair Lady fizzes like a glass of crisp champagne at a summer garden party, strongly reminiscent of the Cardigans' excellent sixties influenced album Life. Breezy and effervescent, this is track will have you skipping down the street throughout the summer.

For much of the album, the duo rely too heavily on bleepy noises and distorted vocals, and the tracks Because and Preparedness are all a bit late-nineties Levis commercial. The maudlin deadpan closer Spark is the melodic equivalent of a cup of tea after a heavy day's shopping.

Always a danger with this sort of ambient music, The Bird and the Bee end up sounding like the soundtrack to some glossy drama about a bunch of over privileged kids living in Notting Hill. But the album is certainly not without its merits: it is accomplished, uplifting, quirky, and at times quite exhilarating. One for those summer evenings sipping rosé with your middle-class mates.