Weird war.

VOCALIST IAN SVENONIUS uses the word "weird" more than a dozen times during an hour-long phone conversation with Thrasher. Which is why it may come as no surprise that the one-time Make-Up captain has dubbed his latest anti-authoritarian act Weird War. (Thus begging the question: "What's so weird about war, anyway?")

In reality, Svenonius' sultry funk-meets-punk outfit--which he heads with multi-instrumentalists Michelle Mae, another Make-Up alum, and Alex Minoff, who played with Mae in Golden--has been around for a few years now. The band originally went under the name Weird War, but then swapped monikers for its first work, I Suck on That Emotion, which was issued under the name Scene Creamers. Little did the band know that a French organization, "Lettrist International," had already claimed the SC moniker, and little did it suspect that said group would actually put up a stink about an obscure American indie-rock ensemble going under the same designation. (Eschewing the eye-for-an-eye modus operandi, though, Svenonius and company are not planning any legal action against a new PC video game called Weird War.)

Some diehard Svenonius fans criticized his new endeavor's Emotion for being too loose and unfocused, frequently spacing out with drawn-out psychedelics and lacking The Make-Up's adored caustic punch. For such detractors, the sassily titled follow-up, If You Can't Beat 'Em, Bite 'Em, will come as no reprieve. With Mae and Minoff's dueling guitar spanks splayed over a bed of soft-edged bass thumps and propped up by Svenonius' squeaky, Ween-meets-Rick James spurts, it takes its predecessor's cerebral mystique one step further.

That said, most open-minded music listeners will revel in the smoky, hip-shakin' bliss, identify it as a source of soulful liberation and appreciate its unbridled approach--something The Make Up was not always apt to provide. Moreover, they will recognize that the most radical political motifs are often disguised in the cloak of the seemingly innocuous, that subversion can best be transmitted through a series of grins and nudges, not a barrage of howls and fists.

To that end, Weird War is all brain, almost no brawn. Just as his band speaks in coolheaded, seductive language, so does Svenonius conduct himself with inimitable candor and grace. Which is not to mention his impressive breadth of knowledge: Svenonius is as well-versed in American history and contemporary politics as he is in rock music, and his seamless intermingling of the two is nothing short of fascinating. He even refers to Weird War in bellicose terms ("We started as an umbrella organization combining different, disparate radical groups").

"There's a horrible conformity going on right now," he opines, mid-way through our conversation. "It's a weird epoch for music, because all the historicism is--everyone's indulging in it, which is kind of good, because it's important to know about [the past], but at the same time, it seems like there's an obsession with doing things right. A conformity to forms which have gone before. And I feel like that has a direct parallel to the fascism that has taken over the whole country. This kind of uniform opinion ... and an American flag on every car. There's just no imagination in so many groups."

Svenonius has an unwavering sense of honesty, one that is adeptly reflected in his pure-and-unfiltered songcraft. This is a man who openly--albeit calmly--assures this writer that magazines "poison the mind" and "are uniform in their coverage of bands," that publicists "buy band coverage" and that he doesn't read Thrasher. He does, however, praise the publication for being "The first real magazine to give exposure to underground bands. That was the one outlet for bands into a more mainstream world."