Einstürzende Neubauten's sixth album, 1989's Haus der Lüge, is a real eye-opener as well as a turning point for the Berlin-based band. For one thing, you can hear how much more attention is being paid to rock idioms--clearly an influence from frontman Blixa Bargeld's moonlighting as Nick Cave's guitarist. More important, though, is that the metal bashing, glass breaking, and electric drilling--in many ways the be-all, end-all of the band's early, musique-concrète-influenced sound--is here harnessed in subservience to downright tuneful compositions. The unmistakable message: Hey, we're "real" musicians, too. Still, Neubauten neophytes will undoubtedly find listening to Haus der Lüge a bit like having a dentist clean their ears. The opener, "Prolog," sounds like a German poetry slam held in a subway tunnel, and "Fiat Lux," a 12-minute opus kicked off by 30 seconds of buzzing bees, is bound to get up your bonnet. Elsewhere it's a different story. The beat-heavy "Feurio!" projects an industrial-dance energy, and the lilting "Ein Stuhl in der Hölle" sounds like it was meant to be chanted in a beer hall. But the crowning achievement here is the title track, an epic, foot-stomping, Dantean allegory that culminates with God shooting himself. Simply awe-inspiring. --Steve Landau