Call them the Dick Clark of experimental pop. Explaining how the England-based, often French-speaking Stereolab remain energized, fresh and seemingly ageless over the course of an incredible ten year career might be as difficult as explaining the music they compose.

An even decade after the release of their first full-length album, entitled Peng, and some ten or so albums later, Stereolab has released Sound-Dust, another dazzling exploration in sound. Still complex and unique, the members of Stereolab defy precedent and mesmerize, all while carefully not repeating themselves. Armed with the prolific John McEntire (Tortoise) and Jim O’Rourke (Gastr del sol) as producers, Sound-Dust hums effortlessly with twelve memorable tracks that compare with some of Stereolab’s best.

Is it the future already? Well, not exactly, but one might be tempted to think so after listening to a few Stereolab songs, a band which has been living ahead of the times for a quite a long time now. Drawing from that endless well of catchy ’60s pop, Stereolab adds all the hypnotic quirks and chirps that sound similar to the music one might imagine would play inside a computer’s microprocessor.

“Black ants in sound-dust” opens the album with just this sort of robotic precision, building simple repetitive sounds into a sort of hollow symphony. It is this ability to create melody out of a repetition of sounds, which by themselves appear to be disparate, which has allowed the group to take their vision to so many places.

Listen very carefully to the lyrics of Stereolab and one might also be surprised. With more pop power than a Partridge family reunion it’s easy to expect these sing-songy Europeans to be harmonizing about peace, love and all things groovy. Instead Stereolab uses their pristine pop platform to promote utopian Marxism and other leftist ideas, creating another interesting depth to a group layered with mystery.

What is most puzzling is that despite their cinematic and atmospheric qualities, Stereolab hasn’t really participated in any work on soundtracks. The chilling “Spacemoth” with all its chiming and eeriness appears destined to be a part of some harrowing Tim Burton production. A time machine with its dials set for the swingin’ side of the 1960s, “Baby Lulu” is bachelor-pad heaven. Its lulling powers of seduction suggest the kind of shagging that would make Austin Powers jealous. The thick French accent of singer Laetitia Sadier only makes the song more delectable.

Sound-Dust retains an uncanny ability to make familiar sounds different. Stereolab’s base of keyboards, 60s melody and pure repetition have always been a staple of their work. Somehow each album has remained distinct and individualized, all while experimenting with pop, jazz and dance without succumbing to it. Regardless of whether the world will ever catch up to Stereolab, Sound-Dust glistens the way the 21st century should.