Marah is the kind of band that makes folks shout, "Rock 'n' roll is back!" -- as if it actually went somewhere. Massive beats, big and clean guitars, cymbals crashing everywhere, epic narratives full of "sha-la la"'s and "shimmy, shimmy, coco-bop"'s, the sound does argue persuasively that rock may have, indeed, croaked. Few bands craft pop this quirkily archaic or lighthearted (though healthy oughtie-era cynicism courses through Marah's handiwork like lifeblood).

20,000 Streets Under the Sky is the fourth full-length by Dave and Serge Bielanko under the Marah moniker. If after listening to this album you are told that the brothers hail from South Philly, you'll undoubtedly reply, "No shit." Italian-American doo-wop, the Velvet Underground, St. Bruce, and popular references to the streets of Philadelphia all creep into the sonics. "Pizzeria," an homage to a local pie-slingin' establishment, kicks off with an upbeat bass line that's unabashedly disco-ish. Then fingers start snapping and back-up singers begin delivering a steady a cappella doo-wop line over which Dave melodicizes through his buoyant, nasally snarl. Totally evocative of The Belmonts or The Crests gathering 'round the flaming garbage can on the evening street corner, the song really isn't as unintentionally silly or nostalgia-drenched as the title and a couple of strophes imply. There's some great -- albeit gratuitously "cheesy" -- imagery, like those "yesterdays" that hang around the singer's neck "like rope chains of gold Italia" or the counter guys who are "just ghosts made of evening heat."

More than a few numbers are torn from the Book of Boss, Chapter E Street Band. On "East," the c.d.'s lead-off track, uptempo jangling guitars introduce a thick, steady, powerfully drummed beat (ˆ la Max Weinberg) and twinkling glockenspiel notes (ˆ la Roy Bittan). The tune, however snappy, is a somber reflection on catching one's breath by simply letting life pass by, specifically by contemplating the "buzz of 95" (that'd be I-95 to all you non-Philadelphians) and South Street floating into the sky. Like Springsteen's best, "East" frames in gold that metaphoric locale where Philly meets Jersey. A magical netherworld where decades of burning diesel, backroom deals, and quiet streetlamp light permeate every thought or memory, the Philly-Jersey terrain warrants poetic treatment. Marah delivers an album's worth. It's solid gold Italia.