You've got to hand it to Duran Duran: almost 15 years after "Planet Earth" the boys are still at it. But this is not the Duran Duran we all grew up with--somewhere along the line we lost the three Taylors and picked up someone by the name of Warren Cuccurullo, who is apparently American. But in truth, LeBon and Rhodes were always the heart and soul of Duran Duran, bar none. After the feeble successes of their past two albums, one of which was all covers, featuring a rendition of Grandmaster Flash's "White Lines," and the other, their second self-titled record, which included the semi-hits "Come Undone" and "Ordinary World," that saw more air-time on MTV Asia than in the US or England, Duran Duran decided to try their hands at electronica.

In some respects, this isn't much of a leap for the '80s wunderkind who never really played their instruments anyway. In fact, judging from recent stints on Vibe TV and "The Tonight Show," it appears that Nick Rhodes' current instrument of choice has evolved from the synthesizer of yester-decade to the laptop computer of today, from which he magically generates sounds by waving his hands over the keyboard.

The album in question, Medazzaland, is obviously the effort of an aging iconic group trying to come to grips with the electronic generation. Unlike bands such as the Rolling Stones whose never-say-die attitude leaves their recent albums and appearences besmirched with pity rather than popularity, Duran Duran seem to know that they will never again regain the over-whelming popularity of their "Hungry Like the Wolf" days, and perhaps, will never bring tears to the eyes of their female fans. But their electronica effort is valiant. As a foray into the new genre, Medazzaland winds up somewhat better than Depeche Mode's attempt, and falls slightly short of U2's Pop.

The first track, which is the title track, sounds like Art of Noise meets the laughter from Josh Wink's house record "Don't Laugh," meets, well, Duran Duran. It is a slow and "trippy" number, with LeBon's muted voice welcoming the listener to Medazzaland, whatever Medazzaland is. This is not the Duran Duran of our youth; it is, instead, a slowed down electronic journey to an indeterminate place. Although it doesn't get us gyrating in the aisles, it'll keep you listening, if only to question, what caper the boys have gotten themselves involved in now.

It is not until the thrid track, the single, "Electric Barbarella" that the one and only LeBon and Rhodes transcend the genre of electronica and revist their roots. "Electric Barbarella," on the Duran Duran scale, is a mixture of "View to a Kill" and "Girls on Film." In this song, the band pays hommage to their eponoymus roots--the '60s cult classic Barbarella which featured a seminude Jane Fonda (Barbarella) trapsing across galaxies in her fur-lined spaceship, trying to save the universe from the clutches of mad scientist Duran Duran. "Electric Barbarella" is the only song on the album in which the boys allow us to see the nonsensical verbiage which was smattered across their earlier records. Lines like, "Major Domo/Plastic Como/Barbarella" should say it all. This is pure unadulterated Duran-ness.

Medazzaland also features Duran Duran's noir contribution to the soundtrack of the movie The Saint, "Out of My Mind." Like the majority of this album, this track is slower that Duran Duran standbys. In fact, as Medazzaland progresses, we are brought deeper and deeper into an uncomprehensible world. The last three numbers on the album are almost depressing, with LeBon sounding more like a narrator in a post-modern after-school special that a jet-fueled pop star. "So Long Suicide," "Michael You've Got a Lot ot Answer For" and the questionably titled "Undergoing Treatment" seem to delve into a musical "mathmos" so reminescent of the movie whence the Durans sprung.

Duran Duran is the incarnation of "epic theater" in the musical world. They have always given us the visual and aural ecstasy that we require, while sacrificing the drama and the meaning (although songs such as "The Reflex" have been known to mean a lot to a lot of people). This aesthetic is upheld in Medazzaland.

While electronica is not a genre that readily welcomes the performative shennanigans of LeBon and Rhodes, the boys have managed to somehow graft their message of sound over meaning and aesthetics over understanding into the ambient noise of their technologically advanced synthesizers. Because, as has always been the case with Duran Duran, it's not all about the music, but rather all about the attitude. And, although well advanced in years, for pop stars at any rate, Duran Duran has attitude to spare.

The reason Duran Duran fails to tap into today's music market, and the reason that Medazzaland wont be creeping into the top-10 anytime soon, is that their music isn't really about anything. It does not speak about problems facing today's youth or give voice to female angst. It is purely about fun. If you recall, Duran Duran was always about fun--"Girls on Film" anyone? In a world fueled by skepticism and the desire to attach both cultural and critical meaning to anything and everything, it is too easy to ask what in god's name Medazzaland could possibly mean.

But you've got to remember that this is Duran Duran, and at on time you, too, bought Seven and the Ragged Tiger (what!) and inanely chanted the lyrics to "The Reflex?" And what do they mean? Medazzaland may not be a wonderful album, but it brings back the element of carefree fun and musical freedom not "to mean" or "to change" that is so lacking in today's Billboard charts (expect for Aqua's "Barbie Girl"). Duran Duran exists because we have always needed Duran Duran to exist, to take us away from the omnipresent ideal of music as a form of self-expression. Sometimes it's good to hear something that means nothing.