Review: Geographer entrances at Union Transfer

As far as chill-wave pop goes, there are a fleeting few artists at the top of the list known for opulent but simple synth-based melodies, dreamily repetitive loops, and heavy-duty FX processing. While chill king Washed Out and glo-fi princes Com Truise and Memory Tapes come to mind, Geographer - New Jersey-born singer/multi-instrumentalist Mike Deni and company - are strong contenders for the hypnagogic pop crown if the devoted fan base at Union Transfer on Friday was any proof.

Without playing a note, Deni could have lulled his audience into somniferous bliss with just his high fluttering voice and its easy flow into a natural falsetto. Showing confidence from show's start - a new song, "I'm Ready," from his Ghost Modern album - Deni led with that countertenor's twitter, a breathily elated croon that acted against the grain of his moody music's arrangement of broken beats, low-sawed cello, and cut-and-paste synths. Looking the part of the quintessential '80s synth-pop hero redone for the 21st century - high hair, skinny jeans, shoulder-padded leather jacket, scruff as manicured as his sound - Deni kept up the flittering alto reverie on "Paris," "Kites," and "Verona." Their off-the-beat rhythms and deep-bowed bass strings acted as a dark counterpoints to his light vocal touch and dear lyricism.

There was a lot of early, twee Depeche Mode throughout, combined with the sway of Fleetwood Mac in new songs such as "Need," with their rich harmonies and grouchy guitar crooks. A cover of "This Is How We Walk on the Moon" from the late art-pop cellist/composer Arthur Russell was a thrill. "Kaleidoscopes" was a wonky treat with its wobbly sequencing, '80's Linn-drums, and Deni's oxygenated vocals filtered through a repetitive loop singing such romantic lines as "love is wise/and love will take the words right out of your mouth."

As the show continued and Deni kept up his rarefied air tonality, you could see your breath. High altitudes can make you yawn; an icy lull set in. Luckily, drummer Cody Rhodes and his weird pulses kicked in when things got sleepy - a godsend. Just when the cool continuum of "Blinders" and "Too Much" got to be too much, his rhythms came lumbering in, insistent, jumbled, and awkward, yet charmingly so, like a child forming his first sentences. Cellist Joyce Lee's plucked bass through the toy-piano clink of "Lover's Game" was also a relief from the chilly calm.