Gnarls Barkley appeals so much as a character perhaps partly thanks to his enigmatic nature. His official “biography” reveals he was close, personal friends with the late rock critic Lester Bangs and English teacher to Kraftwerk. Esoteric and chiefly surreptitious, the lore of Gnarls Barkley translates into the music. While it may be hard to believe Cee-Lo has ever seriously considered suicide, Gnarls Barkley grapples with the notion on Smiley Faces, where Gnarls suggests smiling is “easily one of the hardest things to do.” Kind of a dark sentiment for such an otherwise uplifting number, but that’s the type of lyric you’ll come to expect from Cee-Lo on St. Elsewhere: cryptic and ambiguous enough to invite interpretation, but more importantly instantly catchy and very human. Later on Transformer. It might be the record’s weakest moment, but by far its most interesting musically.

Speaking of the production, Danger Mouse is on some Quincy Jones shit. Whereas his beats on the recent Danger Doom project were almost too processed for MF Doom’s loose delivery, Danger Mouse’s clean sonic canvases and Cee-Lo’s voice combine to form a duo as deadly as Joe Thornton and Jordan Cheechoo. On the history-making Crazy, Danger Mouse borrows from more than one genre to construct the minimal backdrop for Cee-Lo’s soul-searching vocals — deconstruct the song and you’ll find a slinky, sexy bassline from waaaay back when Blue Note was churning out classic after classic, gospel-infused background harmonizing, the silence of a great house track, and the pop sensibilities of the song’s swelling strings. There’s honest resignation in Cee-Lo’s voice as he realizes he might have become a little too much like his childhood heroes. Yeah, Cee-Lo’s always been singing, but he’s never sounded this natural doing it. People complain that Cee-Lo doesn’t rap enough anymore, but fuck it, when he sounds this good singing, it’s preferred.

Danger Mouse turns Violent Femmes cover Gone Daddy Gone into an electro-pop track, with its stuttering drum programming and digital hiccups. The IKEA-furnished Feng Shui achieves harmony with Cee-Lo’s cool-as-a-summer-breeze raps, and the subtle orchestration recalls early Warner Brother cartoons. Storm Coming starts like the humid calm before a thunderstorm, thick and plodding, until the song gets its groove on and the sun attempts to break through the clouds, and The Last Time finds Gnarls Barkley drenched in pure disco euphoria. Tracks are short in Madlibian fashion, long enough to stir in our heads and then it’s straight to the next idea. Sort of like our glances into the psyche of Gnarls Barkley.

Past the slinky, sexy basslines, and the electronic flourishes of the production on St. Elsewhere (is that Jon Brion and Kanye loosening their collars?), the record harkens back to an era when people were pushed into the world and forced to actually interact with each other. After all, “there’s a rhythm deep inside of you,” Gnarls testifies, “and you must get reacquainted.” Preach on, brother! What we have here is the first great soul record of the new millennium.