At first listen, you might dismiss Les Sans Culottes as a novelty act -- an international, frat-party-rocking bunch of kids playing in the shallow pool of Austin Powers-influenced retro-pop and psychedelia. Between band members with stage names like Celine Dijon, Jean Luc Retard and Kit Kat Le Noir and the sheer goofiness of a band name that translates as "those without undergarments", these folks just reek of gimmickry.

However, LSC have a peculiar kinship with such cult acts as Gwar and Dread Zeppelin: they're all musicians brimming with talent whose fabricated mythology is so irresistibly over the top that listeners are dying to buy into it. Just look at chanteur Clermont Ferrand (ex-Les Refusals): furs, frilly purple shirt, disheveled locks in his eyes, bottle of vodka in tow -- but his sultry croon is honed by six years of painful dues-paying.

Its leap in recording quality aside, Faux Realism could easily have been pulled from a 1967 time capsule. The album's guitar tones, bridges, hooks, backing vocals and even choice of bass guitars invokes some hardcore nostalgia. LSC really did their homework, too -- in addition to collecting the appropriate elements, they've learned how to use them well. Album opener "Sa Sabine" mixes clean electric-guitar arpeggios, a solid back-beat, sexy, feminine "doo doo do doo" vocals, fuzz bass and lyrics like (and bear in mind that this is a translation) "Sabine drives her Saab convertible. Sabine is a yuppie snob. She loves her car. I am dreaming of sand castles."

LSC bust out the mellotron and organ solos, skillfully delivered by key-man Morris "Mars" Chevrolet", on "Sos Elephants", a tune about an escaped elephant in heat. There's a subtle, revolutionary message here, wrapped in a mild gross-out ("He has abundant feeling. He finds ravishing, a powerful politician. One may hear his cries throughout Paris: 'Sos elefants!'"). And just to remind us that this is a modern album (as if elephant-buggery songs were all the rage in '66 -- Ed.), Faux Realism includes the horn-laden, wah-wah heavy Bert Roden remix of "Funky Peripherique", suitable for all manner of modern-day bodily gyrations.

Most of these songs will seem more than a little familiar, inspiring regular episodes of "Hey, isn't that a poorly-disguised rip-off of (fill in the blank)?" Please consult the Spinal Tap rule book on this point. Of course there are licks and chord choices that hauntingly recall classic tunes, but once again, it's simply the musical language and characteristics of popular radio circa 1966-69; how distinct was each song from the next?

If you haven't gotten the hint yet, do not expect ground-breaking or envelope-pushing stuff from Les Sans Culottes. Faux Realism should be taken for what it's worth: pure, well-written fun.