Despite that unwieldy, rather craven title, @#%&! Smilers has already been acclaimed by some critics as the best record in Aimee Mann’s long career. Few fans will be disappointed. The opening "Freeway" may be built around a fairly slight play on words ("you got a lot of money but you can’t afford the freeway" goes the chorus) but the nagging melody and expansive synth-laden arrangement, reminiscent of her East Coast counterparts and fellow suburban critics Fountains of Wayne, is nigh on irresistible. "Stranger Into Starman" is a mere snippet, and all the better for its brevity, while "Looking For Nothing" is a perfect example of the southern Californian blankness Mann has captured for years now. The lush, orchestrated country-rock of "Phoenix" rhymes the title with "Kleenex" and truly captures the mood of someone leaving for good. Sean Hayes sounds uncannily like a boozy Antony Hegarty on the deceptively jolly closer "Ballantines," named for a whisky, while author Dave Eggers picks up a credit for his rather good "whistling" on the gloomy, undeniably pretty "Little Tornado." The painfully detailed "Thirty One Today," a distant memory for Mann, is another successful attempt to voice dissatisfaction. Only the chirpy horns on the admonishing "Borrowing Time" actually lighten the mood. Smilers is an excellent record, cleverly thought out throughout. But the smiles here are rueful at best -- Steve Jelbert