12th CD...European plane ticket

Gulag Orkestar. Four stars.

No guitars were used in the making of this album.

Instead, Zach Condon (Beirut), a 19 year old from Albuquerque, takes up ukelele, mandolin, trumpet, piano, organ and percussion (including tambourine and congas), with a little help from members of A Hawk and a Hacksaw picking out a line here and there on clarinet or violin.

The result is probably the most European CD ever created by an American. You can tell right from the opening title track, which starts almost as a mournful band tuning up...somewhere in the Balkans. I thought the whole record sounded tinny on first few listens, but once you're past the lack of guitar and bass, a really incredible sound is open to you. A deep piano, Zach's melancholy vocals working in layers, trumpet everywhere and subtle percussion.

Prenzlauerberg (named for a nice district in Berlin) is a waltz. It sounds like he's singing in another language, but it's just him slurring his English, adding a mysterious vibe and leaving the song open to interpretation.

Brandenburg (named for a German state) is the first song to really pop out at you, via its driving mandolin melody. Despite the pace, it's no less sad for it. It's like an ode to a time and place long gone. That's Beirut's specialty.

Postcards from Italy runs along as a romantic ukelele tune that morphs into a triumphant second half. Trumpet is not a beautiful instrument, but Beirut transforms it.

Accordion comes to the foreground in Mount Wroclai (Idle Days), a peaceful, good-natured tune with a repetitive, chanted chorus and splendid percussion. You can dance to this one. Oh, and Mt. Wroclai is a fictional place.

Rhineland (Heartland) is a more subdued, melancholy number.

Then Scenic World, a bit of a shock, as it's got electronics in it that I find distracting. It's rather like having Pac Man running in the background, but once you're used to it, it's not too bad and the song's only two minutes anyway.

Bratislava (capital of Slovakia) gets back to more familiar territory. It's a crowded, militaristic piece that I get claustrophobic listening to.

The Bunker's sparsity is a breather, though the sound burgeons out as it goes along.

The Canals of Our City is well placed, as the album begins to wind down in a stately, graceful manner. The layers on Zach's voice can be a bit frustrating if you're trying to get the gist of what he's saying. It adds mystery though. Sort of like early T. Rex, though completely different in every other way.

After the Curtain is a bit silly. Applause bursts in like someone pressed a button, and there's the electronics again. The Pac Man sounds gets to be the only solo on the entire CD, and you can almost see the credits roll.

Overall, I'd say the first half of the CD is dynamite, and the second just can't measure up. Despite that, Beirut's debut is undoubtedly one of 2006s most interesting releases, and curiously genre-proof. It's certainly as alternative as they come. I can't wait to check out The Flying Club Cup.