Since North America's officially made the leap from the industrial age to the information age, it's probably safe to say we're now all at least as comfortable working with our brains than our hands. That we're probably more at ease wrestling with a drum machine's knobs than getting sweaty battering a kit, that programming analog drones and fine-tuning keyboard presets is as natural as learning power-chords and busting your high-E string. Much of the modern world works with its brain, not its hands or its back, so it's only natural music would follow suit.

Although that's led, give or take, a bazillion pundits to hail electrono-noises as the new folk, Kraftwerk as the new Weavers and swapping WAV files as the new back-porch jam, that's probably getting a little ahead of ourselves. We're still livin' in a material world -- those guitars still hold a bit of allure.

That's where Handsome Furs steps in. The duo, Wolf Parade singer/guitarist Dan Boeckner and Alexei Perry join forces in a spot where conceptual pieces and programmed, left-brain drum-machine beats find an unsteady affinity for Boeckner's sometimes rootsy guitar work and winsome delivery. Slower and less immediately obvious than The Kills' drum-machine blues, Plague Park is the sound of a Southern Gothic or drearily obsessed indie band falling down a fake-instrument rabbit hole. Boeckner's vocals and guitar, often sound as woeful and world-weary as 16 Horsepower's grimmest moments as the alcoholic self-awareness of Wolf Parade. And while Boeckner's organic contributions are central to Plague Park's songs, they give listeners a lifeboat in a sea of dark atmospheres, minimal soundscapes and minimal arrangements rather than forcing structure onto the duo's songs.

At their heart, Handsome Furs' songs are eerily simple: A loose guitar figure chases itself around staggering drum programming that's barely crawled out of the techno protoplasm as keyboards spit out grainy noises. Songs cut to the point quickly. They build their riffs and grooves almost immediately, then ride out the length of the song with a determination that borders on tunnel vision. A lead guitar figure that could almost be jangly if it weren't stuck in a creepy freefall over thumping drums defines "Snakes on a Ladder," "Dumb Animals" and "What We Had" pull the emphasis away from guitars as keyboards run through paces that are equally single-minded.

Although the bulk of Plague Park's defined by its electronic elements, it still musters a decidedly down-to-earth feel that's part folk and blues simplicity, part low-tech inspiration. It's a product of the information age's love of ideas, the industrial revolution's hands-on spirit and, most importantly, a darker, primeval point of origin.