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Peter, Bjorn and John perform "Let's Call It Off"

(Almost Gold Recordings)

I’m normally not one for perpetuating stereotypes, but the Swedes are a sneaky folk. Look at the inexplicable success of Ace of Base, every mopey girl’s obsession with Muriel’s Wedding and the fact that people actually pay to see the theatrical abortion that is Mamma Mia! And now there’s the Swedish indie-pop trio Peter Bjorn And John, who stay true to their country’s grand tradition of deception on their second record, Writer’s Block. On first listen, the 11 tracks on Writer’s Block are all simple, uneventful affairs. But after spinning it a few more times, it becomes clear that Peter Bjorn And John have made themselves a grower. Behind the record’s low-budget production and basic song structures lies some unexpectedly fertile artistic ground—philosophies on life, relationships, getting older and dealing with the past, coupled with pretty, hands-in-your-pockets-sounding melodies.

“Objects of My Affection” illustrates just how delightfully deceptive the trio can be. Driven by two guitar chords, a snare drum march and a chorus that contains the line “I am more me,” the track seems like nothing more than fodder for whiny teens. But then there’s the third verse: “And the other day, this new friend of mine said something to me/‘Just because something starts differently, doesn’t mean it’s worth less’/And I soaked it in/How I soaked it in/And just as to prove how right he was/Then you came.” The rest of the album follows suit from there, regaling love’s majestic highs (“Paris 2004”) and discouraging lows (“Let’s Call It Off”) with a shy pop sensibility that is way more than the sum of its parts. That being said, some of those parts are real treats, like the steel drums on “Let’s Call It Off” and the casual whistling on “Young Folks.” (Why don’t pop artists whistle more? It gets me every time.)

If this isn’t giving you a good enough idea of what to expect from Peter Bjorn And John, just take a look at the album artwork. Comprised of colored pencil illustrations of a dingy apartment building in a gray-skied city, the packaging drowns in depressing colors and an ugly setting. But there’s something about the artist’s style that gives these images a friendly, almost hopeful touch. And besides, these are Swedes we’re talking about. Once you think you have them pegged, they go and blow your mind.