Couples in rock: Don't you just adore 'em? Kim and Thurston, John and Yoko, Sonny and Cher. To this impressive pantheon add Broadcast, who've been led since 1995 by vocalist Trish Keenan and bassist James Cargill. Their partnership is a testament to the concept of finding a niche and sticking with it, despite countless lineup changes.

Formed in Birmingham, England, Broadcast started their career with singles (the evergreen "Accidentals" and The Book Lovers EP) on the tiny indie label Wurlitzer Jukebox and Stereolab's Duophonic Records. The band upgraded to Warp Records in 1997, becoming the first non-electronic group to sign to the British IDM powerhouse.

Broadcast can be called "record-collector rock," but their collections abound with fantastic obscurities that most people don't even know exist. Therefore, Broadcast perform aural philanthropy by alluding to previous generations' overlooked LPs. Broadcast's most obvious influences—United States of America, White Noise, Silver Apples—have all recently received CD reissues and critical reassessments. But dig beneath this surface of proto-electronic psychedelia and mantric Kraut rock and you'll find subtle assimilations of '60s and '70s Italian soundtracks, library music (quirky miniatures made to order for TV and film), and the prankster spirit of Ron Geesin. Which isn't to imply Broadcast mimic these artists and styles; rather, they paraphrase them while maintaining their own distinctive aura.

The formative efforts of their earliest singles (helpfully collected on the Work and Non-Work compilation) are marked by otherworldly Bruce Haack-like synth tones, Keenan's narcotized ice-queen vocals, waltz-time exotica, candy-coated psych pop with a languorous lilt and a romantic yearning, and Moogy reveries. Broadcast's debut full-length, The Noise Made by People (2000), and its 2003 follow-up, Haha Sound, further refined the group's retro-futurist vision.

It could be argued that Broadcast have only three songs (with occasional tangents): the woozy, waltz-time ballad; the midtempo, motorik jam à la Can's "Mother Sky" or Neu!'s "Hallogallo"; and the faux-innocent psych-pop song. Do Broadcast ever yearn to break out of their established formulae?

"I think we have broken the 'formulae' with Tender Buttons," Cargill counters. "I mean, where would a song like [the atypically topical] 'America's Boy' fit into those three categories? I'm not sure."

Tender Buttons sounds like Broadcast's most introspective album. It also hones the characteristic that makes Broadcast unique: a kind of haunted carefree quality, a euphoric inertia.

"I think the songs are by far the best Trish has written," Cargill observes. "After Haha Sound, we talked about making a much more minimal record, and I think that's something we've achieved. We removed a lot of the acoustic space, particularly with the use of simplistic drum-machine patterns instead of acoustic drums, so the overall feeling is naturally closer than the last album. That's the main difference—and the more minimal approach to the arrangements also contributes to that."

As for making music as a couple, how do Broadcast maintain harmony? "There really aren't many good things to be said about living and working together in the same house," Cargill laments. "It drives us a bit mental! It's just more economical for us at the moment."

Paradoxically, out of the duo's domestic discord come supremely pleasurable sounds.