Over the holidays I was playing Pizzicato Five's "Fifth Release from Matador" in my old bedroom in my parent's house. From behind the closed door, some of the lush strings and post-ironic big band orchestrations reached my father's ears. "Wow," he said as he poked his head in. "What is this?" I tried to explain that the Pizzicato Five were an avant garde pop brain trust from Japan that took different Western notions and exploited them for--but all my father head was "Japan."

"What?" he exclaimed. "This band is from Japan?! I've never heard musicianship like this from the Japanese! This is incredible."

Yes, even though my father isn't that old, every morsel of irony was lost on this man. This is a man who occasionally sees old Laurence Welk programs and makes but one comment: "these arrangements aren't that bad!" Even though modern ears often complain that Pizzicato Five are so kitschy its as though they are shouting "As Seen on TV" every thirty seconds, my father heard only the music. And this is what's key: Irwin Chusid take note! He recognized that it swung.

Pizzicato Five, who deftly blend Laurence Welk, Claude Chabrol, Nancy Sinatra and Peter Max into their look and feel, have released their most kick-butt collection. It opens with "A Perfect World," a completely dynamite swing tune with a fierce beat and catchy riff. It's sung in Japanese, of course, and while translation is available in the packaging, I choose not to read it. (I do choose to stare at the nouvelle vague iconography though. Ye-owww!)

"Roma" is a furious instrumental that sounds like Cecil Taylor trying to bust out of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra. "La Guerre Est Finie" pits vocalist Nomiya Maki against a lilting bassoon as they dance merrily on the Champs Elysees. "Wild Strawberries" is a more traditional trip-hop tune (if there's such a thing) with only a hint of Thunderball romance. If you don't find yourself "La-la-la-la-la"-ing along, have yourself looked at by a physician.

"A Perfect World" shows up in a slowed-down reprise, this time with "Bus Stop"-style guitars, vibes and E Street Band. The "hey-hey-heys" are a little more lethargic. This must be the late night show. That's okay, 'cause the bartenders been giving you a few buybacks and you bummed a few smokes off of the Italian businessman at the table next to you.

The record gets into serious Getz/Gilberto territory with "The Room Without You." Real detached male/female harmonies. Is it love, or is it Memorex? It's cool, 'cause the lounge craze is just about ending, right? So we can start enjoying this music like we did before, you know, all of those people liked it.

Many people call this music hipper-than-thou. I love it. And I don't care. 'Cause I don't try to be hip. And my father digs it, too, and he's the most inadvertently hip guy I know.