Some of you surely remember when Tzadik first hit the scene, were dazzled by the array of exotic musics to be found, impressed by the veterans like Alvin Curran nestled alongside intriguing newcomers like Mamoru Fujieda and David Shea. Ground-Zero, Derek Bailey playing with Ruins, Steve Beresford�s film music, Rodd Keith�s... whatever it was that he did. Who would�ve thought that, some ten years later, Tzadik would be releasing music that wouldn�t sound out of place in a Benetton�s ad?

Muna Zul is a vocal trio hailing from Mexico, three young women (Sandra Cuevas Trejo, Dora Juarez Kiczkosky and Leika Mochan Quesnel) with rich, able voices and, apparently, virtually no taste or discrimination, preferring pabulum and hokey sound effects to an honest edge wherever possible. The Roches, they�re not. The disc�s opener, �Voto de Silencio� is a pleasant enough, sing-songy piece, dragged down by an assortment of percussive vocal effects that remind one of an especially obnoxious Bobby McFerrin. Worse, there�s a �trumpet solo� by one of the singers. This does not bode well. Actually, the most enjoyable track on the album is next, the traditional song, �La Llorona.� Here, one does in fact hear something of the thrill and ecstasy of Mexican folk singing, the trio freely and emotionally wringing the tune for all its worth (albeit with, once again, some rather cloying background singing). A traditional Arabic song, �Ghazali� follows and quickly descends into a faux-or! ientalist pastiche of nasal squeals and glottal ululations. Making sure to touch as many ethnic bases as possible, �Mujer de Trenza Azul� begins with a Hebrew invocation and continues on in a manner that would shame the gauziest ECM production. But wait, it gets worse. �Water Sculptures,� regrettably, brings us the first English lyrics, new-agey pap delivered in a sterile, quasi-bluesy style (complete with finger-popping and, um, scatting, so to speak) that wouldn�t be out of place heard over the sound system in a Starbucks.

The remainder of the pieces pretty much vacillate between the poles of embarrassing and competent, always performed professionally but soullessly. Special mention, however, should be made of �Glow,� Muna Zul�s take on hip-hop. Words fail me, but someone needs to be punished. Some much needed and very pretty acoustic guitar appears on the penultimate track, �Desierto,� one that also features an attractive melody and is relatively underplayed by the trio, as with �La Llorona,� a nice enough song.

Tzadik�s Oracle series� ostensible purpose is to document creative, experimental female musicians. Not only is Muna Zul about as experimental as, oh, Cher but there�s simply little of any creative nature to get at all excited about. Something like the flawed but sometimes brilliant first Hoahio disc is light years beyond this one. Quality control seems, over the years, to have received increasingly short shrift at the label.