The situation was this: in a bid to free himself from the band's tour in Spain, Haines jumped from a 15-foot wall -- "trying to duplicate the old-fashioned hobbling operation" -- and broke both ankles. He stayed in a wheelchair for most of the writing of Murder Park, which might explain the intensely introspective, almost claustrophobic feeling of the lyrics. On Murder Park, nothing escapes his roving eye, including religion. "Buddha," a short, buzzsaw guitar tune, includes sarcastic birthday wishes to the god. "I hate Buddha," he explains. "I hate everything Buddha represents. Buddhism's become chic."

"Unsolved Child Murder," on the other hand, is tied closely to the song for which the album was named, a jangly, French-horn-layered, two-part tale of a child who disappeared from Haines's neighborhood when he was younger, and the child conversing with the parents from the afterlife: "Darling, I will always love you, lying in a shallow grave."

This is pop music? From the Auteurs, yes, it is, with qualifications. "I don't think we write regular pop songs," says Haines. " `Unsolved Child Murder' is not a regular pop song. We released it as our Christmas single. To me, it should have been a big hit. And it is skewed in a horrible English-provincial-reality way, about how to get out of this humdrum existence. I thought there were a lot of records made recently with the attitude of `Ho ho, we're English,' this Brit-pop exercise. We've got towards the end of the '90s and we're still sold on the idea of four or five mop-top guys going over in a plane, `Hi, we're Oasis.' We are in the same position we were 30 years ago. The bands that sound like Gerry and the Pacemakers."

The Auteurs (who include cellist/keyboardist James Banbury, bassist Alice Readman, and drummer Barney Crockford) have no fear of earning that description. Since the release of their debut, New Wave (Caroline), in 1993, they have fought pigeonholing with eclectic variety. They can sound like a rougher, angrier Kinks (thanks to Steve Albini's production on songs like After Murder Park's feedback-heavy "Light Aircraft on Fire") or a sweeter, more orchestral T-Rex ("Married to a Lazy Lover"). And always their warped sense of humor adds an eccentric twist, whether they're singing about showgirls on their debut or the "New Brat in Town" on their latest.

But Hootie they're not. The Auteurs are about a more subtle pop performance, for in the end, though not mop-tops, they're still a pop band. Reconciling clever lyrics and difficult topics with pretty, complex melodies and harmony, however, is not the sort of thing that sells a lot of records; in the Auteurs' case, it seems, that means 20,000, tops, in any country.

"In any given culture there is this limited number of people who are interested in us," says Haines dryly. But, he adds, it doesn't bother him. "We're very much out on our own. The Auteurs feels like this kind of island off the island, and like a big wave we keep coming back again, 50 yards offshore. Which is kind of the way I like it."

-- Randee Dawn Cohen