by Dean Carlson By dint of their immaculate fashion sense and vacant stares, Rialto has been at the forefront of lapsing Brit-pop emulators vying for the shrinking party-like-it's-1995 indie market. This second full-length, preemptively released in Korea, returns to their debut's stylish bombast and unflagging air of ambition but suffers for it. Even after being perennially dropped by record companies, Louis Eliot can still sound like he could take over the world with one sighing blast of a chorus and, truthfully, few bands would mix breakbeats with cyclonic orchestration -- sometimes clicking remarkably well, sometimes coming off as put-upon as Oi!-chanting American punk bands and Japanese Elvis impersonators -- discovering a niche no-hopers like My Life Story could never, ever find. Ultimately, though, you wouldn't want to be friends with anyone who didn't feel the delicate rush that burns through these songs ("Failing in Love," "Anything Could Happen," and "Underneath a Distant Moon") or couldn't get the sense that there is a certain nobility in standing on these particular chamber pop parapets. It's just that this is territory long past familiar. A flick of a wrist instead of a massive, arrogant strut in the face of adversity.