As rock & roll teeters on the edge of the millennium, dream pop has swirled onto the music scene. It's as if the global psyche were dividing: the brutality of grunge or the buttercup sighs of the Cranberries, the Sundays, Frente! and Slowdive. But the alloy of the two sounds is most compelling – and a feat few bands have accomplished with conviction. This ragout of beauty and the beast is most convincingly stirred by Madder Rose, a New York City band with a startling passive-aggressive approach.

On the quartet's second album, Panic On, singer Mary Lorson never plays the waif diva. Buoyed by Billy Coté's chaotically gorgeous guitar work, she sings of sleep and love and longing with an abrasive kiss, soaring blissfully into a desperate soprano, her whisper conveying the emotional impact of a scream.

The album kicks off with the grinding blur of "Sleep, Forever," one of many tunes that speak cryptically of a metaphysical weariness while bedded in crunchy guitar and drums. "Car Song" is a languid sleepwalk; the title track bubbles, a catchy single. Co-produced by Mark Freegard (the Breeders), Panic On evokes the deceptive loveliness of obsession and sadness – but retains the scratch in the silk. "Ultra Anxiety (Teenage Style)" rocks with abandon, as Lorson barks and coos like a cross between Suzanne Vega and Bow Wow Wow's Annabella Lwin.

Coming off its critically praised Seed Records debut, Bring It Down (1993), Madder Rose's major-label debut hasn't marred the band's idiosyncratic sound. Panic On beautifully blends poetry and mayhem. Like an East Villager in a flowing floral dress and combat boots, Madder Rose has created an ironically seductive style. (RS 685)

KARA MANNING