What's wrong with this picture? We're inside the control room at Electric Lady's Studio B. Producer extraordinaire Steve Lillywhite is playing "Crush," a cut from the upcoming Dave Matthews Band album. Behind him, Matthews rocks back and forth, from foot to foot, weaving with the polymetrical beat. Complexity and accessibility seem in balance, with the groove unbroken by shifting time signatures and complex changes. At the chorus, a straightforward IV-V-I in four, the momentum focuses and builds, in effect refilling the tank before driving back toward the more esoteric verses.

This is ideal pop; like tasty medicine, it goes down easy yet it's good for you too. Clearly Matthews is onto something here- so what do he and Lillywhite talk about? Another cut on the album, one more streamlined than this, and tied to memories of this band sounding.....well, let's listen in.

"It was sad, man," the singer says, shaking his head. "We started strumming it, and then Carter started playing the groove."

"Then the bass line came," Lillywhite jumps in. His hands are nudging faders up and down, but his mind is on the earlier session. "You guys sounded like a wedding band."

"It was terrible," Matthews moans. And Lillywhite chimes in:

"It's scary, but sometimes this band can sound..."

And suddenly remembering the journalistic intruder seated to his right, he interrupts himself and sheepishly glances back at Matthews, who helpfully completes the producer's thoughts: "...really awful?"

They're both laughing now. "You know if I say that, I'll get fired," Lillywhite jokes. Then he leans towards the "Musician" tape recorder: "They're always fuckin' great."

But Matthews won't back down. "No, when know when we suck. I mean, I was depressed. I left the studio devastated. It was like, I don't know, having a baby, teaching it to speak German, and then you find out it's turned into a Nazi."

We didn't hear the song in question, but none of the cuts they played for us that day jolted us into a goose-step. Exactly the opposite: The new Matthews CD, due from RCA in late March or early April, seems like their strongest performance to date, largely because of the faith this band invests both in their own musical resources and the open-mindedness of the public they serve. After all, with ten longish songs, one must have faith that you can cater to long attention spans and still find a place on the charts.

Matthews, the picture of restless concentration, nods. "I certainly believe in the brilliance of the masses."

Lillywhite, who tousled graying hair and a high-voltage smile, adds, "I mean, "Seinfeld" is the number one TV program!"

But why, we wondered, break into some odd time signature where a straight four might work as well?

"It keeps the musicians happy," Lillywhite laughs.

We shift to a discussion of a tune with the working title "Funk in Five," which is mainly in 5/4 but locks into a propulsive 4/4 in the chorus. "We played with the groove quite a lot in that one, turning it back and forth between five and three," Matthews says. Then at home one day, I realized that if I had something in four, the other rhythms could flourish around that. I've always thought it's important to have relief from the madness."

Is it madness to expect a band that takes a few chances to score with the public at large? Lillywhite answers adamently: "Sometimes it annoys me when reviewers dismiss this band as, 'Oh, they're just the Grateful Dead.' It's crap, all that. This is really music for the masses."

And what do you call an album that's based on the assumption that listeners have sophisticated ears? Apparently several titles have been considered.

"There was 'Come on, sniff my finger," Lillywhite muses.

"This is my dick: Hold it," Matthews suggests.

"Me, My Cock, and All These Chickens," Lillywhite remembers.

"These are the ones that aren't going to make it," Matthews quickly adds. "So far, though, I like 'Nobody Likes Us But everybody'." Sounds like a winner to us.