The Decemberists: The Crane Wife

The Decemberists' 2005 breakthrough Picaresque swiftly turned Colin Meloy & co. into the fave rave of the Lit major set thanks to that album's beguiling mix of folk chords and plaintive, lovelorn vignettes tethered to Meloy's delicate croon. Naturally, it took even less time for major labels to begin devising ways to cash in on the band's burgeoning coterie of admirers. Capitol Records eventually won out, but instead of provoking indie-snob sour grapes, the group's fervent disciples took it more like a dare and as simply another reason to impatiently await their next move. The Crane Wife is that next move - a dynamic and unexpectedly bold array of songs that now actually sound like a BAND rather than the self-indulgent bedroom studio dilettantes their detractors insisted they were.

First and foremost, electric guitars and steadily booming rock drums feature just as prominently as softly-strummed 12-strings and anachronistic syntax this time around. However, this new-found assurance as an ensemble unfortunately enables the tedious 13 min. suite "The Island..." which comes off sounding like Yes and all those other prog-rock wet blankets. Thankfully, they go right back to channeling REM with a charming duet between Meloy and part-timer Laura Veirs on "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)". Next, the group offers the dazzling "O Valencia" - a bouncy Nick Lowe-esque sing-along that arguably ranks as the group's finest achievement yet. "When the War Came" leads one to believe there's a copy of The Afghan Whigs' Gentlemen in someone's record collection and I'd venture that "The Perfect Crime" has Lowe's compatriot Elvis Costello's ears burning as well. Another landmark is reached with the album's closer "Sons and Daughters" as it gradually swells into an anthemic march with the potential to turn anyone who hears it into an idealistic hippie radical for its duration (that's assuming the listener isn't one of those already).

In case you haven't figured it out by now, The Crane Wife officially erases any doubts of The Decemberists' legitimacy. Even more importantly, they made a concerted effort to win over some new listeners instead of simply trying to maintain the loyalty of the sycophantic scenesters Picaresque propagated. Sure, they can be a little long-winded at times and more than a little grandiose, but this collection's abiding quality should easily make up for its largely trivial shortcomings. If you're one of those still recovering from all the blissed-out afternoons spent dutifully absorbing Picaresque, then go buy The Crane Wife right away and start all over again. And if you aren't, that's okay too, because The Decemberists have crafted an album strong enough to stand without prerequisites. In any case, just try to enjoy them now before they become everyone else's favorite band too.