Accelerated evolution can bring vital creative sparks to musicians: Continually pushing at self-imposed limitations and outside definitions leaves little time for sitting still. But with Q And Not U's third album, Power, it may just leave fans scratching their heads or scrambling to keep up. For its first couple of years (and particularly with its first album, No Kill No Beep Beep), Q And Not U couldn't pass a day without a Fugazi comparison. But those comparisons were fair, accurate, and expected, particularly considering that Fugazi's Ian MacKaye both produced Q And Not U's first two albums and released them on his Dischord label. The band even seemed to progress the same way Fugazi had, loosening its grip on punk by adding elements of dub, chilly pop, and Washington, D.C.'s homegrown genre, go-go.
Power announces a change from the get-go, fast-forwarding through punk's often-tired gambits and—sometimes tentatively, sometimes with impressive assurance—shimmying around the dance floor with only occasional furtive glances at the exit. Those looking for the wall-to-wall sandpaper scratch and fiery anthems of yore might be left out, but balking at these new horizons would be ignoring where they came from. Power can be jarringly different, but it sits at the end of a straight progression; it just got there on the express train.
While pockets of the old school remain (the wiry punk of "X-Polynation" and "Book Of Flags" are reprised from a single), Q And Not U seems to nod at an even older school more generously now: "Wonderful People" gyrates around slinky synthesized bass, funk guitar, and an R&B-inspired falsetto intoning half-thoughts like "Wonderful people, I wonder if they'll show me / Wonderful secrets and never leave me lonely." The falsetto pops up throughout, most notably on "Throw Back Your Head," which incorporates both an early-Prince homage and a recorder solo. On occasion, Power pushes too far in the wrong direction, tossing off a weird intermission ("District Night Prayer") and a bit of dark, post-punk meandering ("Dine"). But it picks itself right up by rounding off the angles, bringing in the slink, and embracing its own punk past without living in it.