Modern times

Years ago, at the 1969 Woodstock Festival, Country Joe McDonald showed that one man and his guitar powering an audience to shout "F—" was an astonishing enough display of political and civil disagreement to be remembered. Nowadays, with so much of the population having near constant access to news, blogging and the rest of the world, it takes nothing short of outright shock to cause a stir.

Even though this truth puts musicians at a disadvantage in the oversaturated world of music, in the end, the big ideas and industrial cacophony of M.I.A.'s new Maya — also written /\/\/\Y/\ — proves that some pop music is simply born different.

Take for example the album's first single, "Born Free," and its extensively banned music video. The song samples synth-punk pioneers Suicide, having more to do with 1970s German psychedelic Krautrock than the urban style that has pervaded M.I.A.'s previous work. A thick distorted bass pounds listener's ears under a shimmering haze of graphically-customized white noise.

With the video, a long and tense documentation of mass red-head genocide, a fearlessly opinionated M.I.A. (a.k.a. Mathangi "Maya" Arulpragasam) has found a razor sharp edge on which to craft violent, gritty and meaningful pop. On the album, M.I.A. is constantly toying with modern-day institutions, such as the iPhone, texting and people's often perverse fascination with the Internet.

The whole record is a revolving door of strange musical choices and strong beliefs that are often so initially disturbing that listeners will want to turn away, much like reactions to the "Born Free" video.

"Steppin' Up" is a song built almost entirely on samples of auto-shop machinery and tools, laid over with M.I.A.'s indistinct fuzz-affected voice copping "Rubba' Dub Dub, Three Men in a  Tub" for what can be best described as its hook.

Strange as it sounds, a bunch of metallic noise will still have audiences clapping on the twos and fours. It may take a few listens but eventually, listeners will appreciate just what imagination went into this track.

As "Steppin' Up" implies, no sounds on this album are ever quite what they seem. Beats shuffle in and out of existence seamlessly, often cutting moments short before initiating entirely new ones.

The softer "Lovalot" constantly and purposefully drops in and out of its shuffling beat to confuse listeners and leave them with an uncomfortable feeling of satisfaction. On top of this, her global relations-related lyrics here comment on touchy subjects that are sure to turn a few heads.    

It's easiest to describe the sound on most of Maya as a daring mix stranded somewhere between the charred remains of an industrial Nine Inch Nails record and the melancholy attention of old school electronic music.

"Teqkilla" — perhaps the album's strangest track — still manages to act as some sort of centerpiece. It's a hulking song that on first listen may sound like nothing more than assorted electronic noise implosions.

On repeat listens, "Teqkilla" reveals itself to be a slower, multilayered jam that brings tolight many of M.I.A.'s musical evolutions and makes note of her previous work.

Where some tracks feel like they are about to bust out of the speakers, as with the aurally pummeling Sleigh Bells-sampling "Meds and Feds," other songs find a more relaxed feeling amidst all the crushing metallic sounds.

There is album closer "Space," a track that remains aggressively different without missing that laid-back feeling, instead focusing of M.I.A.'s lyrics. There's even Spectral Display cover "It Takes a Muscle," an astonishingly out-of-place reggae breakdown that still manages to fit into the album.

All new sounds aside, one of the few things the album has in common with earlier M.I.A. records is her jumpy vocal delivery.

Though her voice holds the same qualities as in earlier works, her tribal raps are far more sporadic on these tracks. Instead, short yet complex phrases offer meaning to the album, such as the disturbing thought of people's brains being connected directly to the government, which is at the center of opener "The Message."

From beginning to end, Maya is M.I.A.'s redefinition of pop music for a generation of directionless musicians. This isn't to say popular music will necessarily follow in M.I.A.'s footsteps. Instead, it opens the door for other artists to bring their own new ideas to the pop table — or simply wipe the slate clean and start again.

Maya will not be everyone's cup of tea, and some old fans may be initially put off by the decisions M.I.A. has made. These changes, however, are the basis for the impact she intends to make.

RATING: 4 stars out of 5

diversions@umdbk.com