Rick Rizzo and Janet Beveridge Bean, the husband and wife who anchor Chicago's Eleventh Dream Day, know all about domestic warfare. On El Moodio, they comb a battleground littered with damaged relationships, searching for specifics of what went wrong. "You threw the bottle against the wall/Motivated by alcohol," shouts Rizzo on "That's the Point," as the band thrashes wildly; the edgy "Makin' Like a Rug" features Bean's laconic tale of an abusive union ended by gunfire, concluding wearily, "Love is a one-way ride/No, you can't buy a ticket out."

While not every track on the quartet's third major-label outing boasts such startling urgency, the lion's share of the material reveals a knack for emotionally charged scenes, underscored by Bean's brusque drums. In a way, Eleventh Dream Day's thrilling eloquence comes as a surprise, because you've heard its tricks elsewhere. For starters, Rizzo's off-the-cuff vocals owe a heavy debt to Lou Reed and Tom Verlaine. And though Rizzo and fellow guitarist Matthew O'Bannon excel at scalding feedback ("The Raft") and pastel fantasies ("Honeyslide"), their fondness for Neil Young's ragged epics becomes a serious distraction. "Rubberband" carries affection to the point of mimicry, echoing the sound of "Cowgirl in the Sand" without approaching its dynamic sweep.

When they're cooking, however, influences don't matter. The brooding "Murder," for instance, unleashes an angry swarm of noise guaranteed to alarm the fainthearted. Proving once again that the root of great rock & roll isn't originality but spirit – and Eleventh Dream Day has passion to burn. (RS 660/661)

JON YOUNG