Cold Cave seems as if it was dutifully engineered to be a machine able to create electronic music almost devoid of emotion. Echoes of everything from Kraftwerk and Suicide to Xiu Xiu (from whom Cold Cave borrows members) abound on the band's debut, as the Philadelphia outfit does its best robo-man and approaches its tunes with the sort of control, precision and detachment that could coax a smile out of a Cylon.

The machinelike precision thing's been done time and again, but Cold Cave brings something new to the equation: namely, the realization that an utter lack of emotion is in and of itself a pretty bleak and depressing place. Love Comes Close is drenched in dark production and cold treatment of its songs, pitting it in a place where its utter lack of emotion forces listeners to realize just how stark, brutal and nasty the transistor-and-steel flattening of affect really is.

That makes Cold Cave a lot more than simple musical robots or Soma addicts. Love Comes Close isn't exactly a harrowing listen (there are plenty of indie-rock singer/songwriters ready to shamelessly pluck those heartstrings if you need that), but it provides us more than enough reason to reflect on the role emotion -- even in the void created by its total lack -- plays on us. "Heaven Was Full" and "Love Comes Close" hint at The Faint's early, new-wave revivalist aims, with meaty back beats cutting through gloom with the precision of German steel. "Hello Rats" is less club-oriented, dropping most of its rhythms altogether to drill through pressing, noise-bound programming and high-end synths to round out the affair. "The Laurels of Erotomania" and "The Trees Grew Emotions and Died" find respect for the electronic canon, juggling kraut-like nods at Kraftwerk and Einsturzende Neubauten's clinical approach to music production, if not exactly their sounds or methods, while being rife with tunes to rescue the band from one-dimensional, dismal songwriting.

Love Comes Close is crafty. It's oppressing without turning to emotion, let alone melodrama. Cold Cave stumbles on the fact that lack of emotion isn't nearly as easy as shutting down the valve: For all the robotic control on this album, Cold Cave is deceptively depressing.