Only the suburbs could create a band as odd as Trans Am. Equally enamored with trashy hard rock and electronic music, the unpredictable group has quickly amassed a dedicated fan base of eggheads and erstwhile headbangers. But with Trans Am's third album The Surveillance, all its faults suddenly come to the fore. The members of Trans Am don't write songs; they play riffs, and the occasional forays into Afrika Bambaataa-inspired electro come across as coy non-sequiturs. This cross-cultural mish-mash worked surprisingly well on Trans Am's previous album Surrender To The Night, which was mixed by studio maverick John McEntire; The Surveillance, however, was recorded by the band itself, and it sticks to the rockier side of things. On disc, Trans Am's cacophony can't be rescued by the goofy faces and ironic posing that mark its incredible live sets, and the neo-heavy-metal shtick gets tired fast. Moreover, the electronic bits, once a nice respite from the flat rock, are now either shrill and irritating or just plain boring: "Access Control" begins with a steady beeping that's about as appealing as a smoke detector with dying batteries. Trans Am has the potential to really offer something new, a synthesis of synthesizers and punk. But as an instrumental concept album about observation and paranoia, The Surveillance is a disappointing regression that relies a little too much on rock to get its rocks off.