Barely a year old, Gene have already attracted the standard amount of instant acclaim in merry old England. In this latest case the critical clamor has cleaved neatly into opposing sentiments: either a rousing "Brilliant. Olympian is indeed the music of the gods!" or a skeptical "Not the Smiths but an incredible simulation." Unsurprisingly, Olympian's reality falls somewhere in between. Gene are a jaunty, garrulous and ardently melodic combo whose elemental resemblance to Morrissey, Marr and Co. definitely borders on the ridiculous.

Everybody's got to steal from somebody at first, so why not ape the most influential British band of the last 15 years? Gene do it better than the scores who've tried before; the resemblance is borne equally of genuine hommage, shameless copping and sheer coincidence. The brunt of the blame rests with frontman and lyricist Martin Rossiter. His foppish demeanor, voluble moping and gay sensibility serve only to enhance his mirror-image-of-Morrissey vocal timbre. Rossiter's songs couldn't be more vivid or tuneful, though. Meanwhile, Gene guitarist Steve Mason recalls the late Mick Ronson (a more recent Morrissey collaborator) rather than the Smiths' Johnny Marr. Mason propels Rossiter's otherwise dainty pop melodramas with sustained explosions; delicate arpeggios erupt into glamish electric leads and gusto-ridden arena riffs.

This formula is most satisfying on "Sleep Well Tonight," a wry-eyed anthem to a pub punch-up, and "London, Can You Wait," on which Mason's gutty crunch underscores an angry declamation of loss and unexpected death. Death – and, it's implied, AIDS – is a repeated subject for Rossiter ("Haunted by You," "For the Dead"). He regards death as bitter injustice and painful reality, not just some bloodless, morbid writer's fixation. The snappy, gorgeous songs remain very much alive, bursting with a passion and aggression that makes Rossiter believable when he warns with that dandy pop voice of his, "Here comes me thunder!" (from "Your Love, It Lies"). Though Gene come off like Badfinger to the Smiths' Beatles at this point, Olympian has plenty to offer of its own – including the potential for uniqueness further down the line. (RS 711)

JASON COHEN