As the muted rhythms of "The Flower Called Nowhere" subsided, a voice from the anonymity of the crowd requested, "Take me to your laboratory!" Murmurs flittered through the previously subdued crowd as if some unspeakable sanctity was breached--but Stereolab remain unphased. The usual "merci beaucoup" followed, and the six-person outfit continued their audio exploration.

Such was the scenario last Friday at Paradise Rock Club, where the Franco-Anglo melodymakers Stereolab graced the karmic stage playing to a capacity crowd. Whereas Damon Albarn and company may get jeers from Gallagher acolytes between sets, and Jarvis Cocker has lingerie (new and apparently used) thrown at him mid-verse, only the progenitors of what has been called "silver-suited amorphous future-pop" would receive such a foolhardy request to enter their privileged world of audio experimentation.

Aside from that sacrilegious entreaty, there were no other interuptions from the attentive audience. Curiously, Stereolab are not exactly the superhuman figures the crowd makes them out to be. Tim Gane and Laetitia Sadier, the principals of Stereolab, are, in fact, decidedly normal. Indeed, there's something supremely understated about the group, something peculiarly subtle about them that not only begs for an answer, but apparently has the power to make even crowds docile.

Morgane Lhote bashfully stands behind her Farfisa organ. Studiously attending to the transmission of the underlying chords to each song, she hardly notices the men ogling her. Guitarist Gane and bassist Richard Harrison lurk in the recesses of the stage, framing percussionist Andy Ramsay. Playing facing each other, neither of them ever take an extended look in the crowd's general direction.

With such stoicism, one may easily mistake Stereolab for an opening band. Their static stage manners coupled with the relatively sober crowd give no hint to their brilliance. Upon closer inspection, the crowd was awaiting the evening's top bill not with indifference, but bona fide reverence--creening to absorb the group's trademark sound of hypnotic rhythmic tracks overlaid with melodic, mesmerizing vocals.

If Stereolab's charisma did not lay claim to the reverence garnered from their fans, the power must have partially come from the sounds emanating from the group's cache of analog relics and digital gadgets barricading their stage. Undoubtedly, more than just francophiles delight in Sadier's irresistible French lyrics and Marxist banter. Backed in part by Australian-born Mary Hansen, Sadier's voice wafted ethereally between the electronic imagery.

Stereolab's music is often dismissed as catchy, camp and shallow. But their inclination for melodic 60s pop melded with decisively art-rock aesthetic, not to mention their most recent foray in appropriating a selection of jazz styles, have garnered them a strong cult following both here and across the Atlantic. Moreover, with these guys darlings of the pop music industry, it's not uncommon for more mainstream bands to drop the names of Gane and Sadier as what they're listening to.

Though their pop minimalism is easily misunderstood, it is through this very style of experimenting that Stereolab continues to legitimize music traditionally bastardized in the rock lineage. It's not difficult to find the distinctive strains of bossa-nova, lounge-pop and movie soundtracks underneath the pulsating rhythms and enchanting vocals.

Through most of the night, Stereolab punctuated the consciousness of those lucky enough to get tickets to the sold-out show. The band kept a balance between their last album, Emperor Tomato Ketchup, and their newest, Dots and Loops. They offered a breadth of other material, including earlier favorites and even a few non-album tracks. At times though, especially a few minutes into the older "John Cage Bubblegum," dynamism fell short and their sound stubbornly refused to come to life.

But moments like those were fortunately few and far between. For the most part, it was a liberating experience for those in attendance, expatriates and otherwise. Presenting a treat, the group debuted the "Contronatura," the last song off their latest album. "We've never played this before," warned Sadier in her French-tinged accent, "so be prepared." This song perhaps best represents the jazz influence that permeates Stereolab's latest excursion into their artificial realm of dots and loops.

Friday night, the group reveled in its introspection; their performance was both accessible and challenging. Stereolab are modern troubadours who transform familiar melodies into a lush landscape of experimentation. Like many of its English counterparts, Stereolab provides a welcome injection of pop sensibility to the often uninspired noisy sea of mainstream American music.