-- lam--prey, n, pl lampreys (12c): any of an order of aquatic vertebrates that are widely distributed in temperate and subartic regions in both fresh and salt water and resemble eels but have a large suctorial mouth.

The sophomore release is typically an anxiety-ridden ride for many a musician, especially if they are in the position of bettering a freshman debut that was a certified commercial or critical success.

Fingernails are bitten to the bone while record executives waltz around with their's crossed, the headphones around their heads blaring the newest musical sensations.

Many rise to the occasion (Living Colour with Time's Up, Nirvana with Nevermind), others become yesterday's news (do the names Big Country or 'Til Tuesday ring any bells?). With Lamprey, Bettie Serveert falls somewhere in the middle.

The Dutch outfit's follow-up to their 1993 indie smash Palomine has its moments; Carol van Dijk's vocals are still powerfully unpolished while a number of the songs still retain that spaced-out ethereal quality. Yet one can not help wonder if the abundance of overproduced pop and the diminished value of Peter Visser's once roving guitar are actually signs of progress.

"The sucking mouth of the lamprey's face/Never give me a reason" sings van Dijk on "Re Feel-It," one of the album's better cuts. As she squeals to hit those high notes with a voice that does not seem ready for prime time, van Dijk is a constant reminder of the band's promise -- her voice seemingly filled with raw emotion as it weaves between Visser's guitar and Herman Bunskoeke's bass.

Van Dijk continues to soar over the screeching guitar of "21 Days" and the tweaked out sounds of "Totally Freaked Out," although her sudden change to a Suzanne Vega mode of delivery on "Something So Wild" is a bit too much.

If van Dijk's voice is the album's highlight, the disappointment lies in the music that accompanies it. More often than not, Visser's guitar indulges in an overproduced melange of masturbatory guitar solos, especially when he hits orgasm on "D. Feathers." Although his drifting guitar opens Lamprey with style on "Keep Sake," it seemingly disappears, along with bassist Bunskoeke, whose presence here seems rather minimal.

With Palomine, Bettie Serveert gave us pop with an atmospheric edge that did not need an overproduced sheen --save that stuff for Hatfield and Dando. Although Lamprey once again proves that Bettie Serveert is a competent band, it's time to move on, or, in their case, move back -- to the basics.