Darren McLeod
11/20/05, 05:23 PM
Sometimes you go through a dry spell. No music seems to excite you. Records you were anticipating the year before are released, and they do nothing for you. You find yourself listening to your old favourite records for months on end, waiting for something to break this cycle of rehashed music being put in front of you.
The Decemberists did this for me in a big way.
After reading good things about them for a while, I finally got around to picking up the album. I was blown away. This was something new. This was fresh. It was, without a doubt, one of the most exciting records I'd heard all year, and for the past few years.
The album begins with some unique animal sounds, with no music in the background. Colin Meloy's vocals break in with “Here she comes,” and the musical part of the first track, “The Infanta,” begins. It is one of the more upbeat tracks of the album, and features heavy utilization of animals in the lyrics.
Now I must interject and say something – Colin Meloy's meticulous attention to detail in his lyrics is unsurpassed from any artist I've ever seen. There are plenty of great lyricists in the world, and I'm not going to say that Meloy is the best, but he has such a unique style that manages to blend in some great storytelling, and the lyrics read like a book. A damn good book, the kind you'd read cover to cover to fully grasp all of the metaphors that he has hidden within the lines.
After “The Infanta,” the beautiful folk arrangements of The Decemberists' musicians become even more apparent. “We Both Go Down Together” is a touching slow track that details us of the narrator's forbidden love with a woman from a different class than his own, and hints at her loss of virginity to him. It is followed by “Eli, the Barrow Boy,” my personal favourite from the album. More similar to Celtic folk music than anything you'll hear in Indie, it tells of a poor merchant boy who couldn't afford to buy his now-deceased love the things he felt she deserved, and it climaxes with his body being found in a river – how he got there is left up to the listener.
The album's pace picks up with “The Sporting Life,” which offers an interesting view of the glories of competition, by narrating from the point of view of an athlete who has just fell in the middle of the event, letting down his coach, father, team, and crowd.
“From My Own True Love (Lost at Sea)” is a slow-paced and tragic song of a narrator waiting on the postal service to deliver a letter from their loved one, who has been, as the title suggests, lost at sea. “Sixteen Military Wives,” the album's single, is a catchy, upbeat tune with a lyrical focus on numbers, and a chorus that proudly exclaims “Cheer them on to their rivals, / 'Cause America can, and America can't say no / And America does, if America says it's so / It's so!”
One of the highlights of the album is “The Mariner's Revenge Song,” an epic eight-minute track which features a great accordian melody that Meloy sings over. The beat is completely infectious, and the song manages to go for eight minutes without ever getting tiring. Meloy's ability to weave a magical tale in the midst of a great tune is nowhere as apparent as it is on this song, describing the long battle the narrator has with his mother's death, and how he goes about getting the revenge she wishes for on her death bed. Complete with a beautiful intermission of instrumentation halfway through, and an attack by a whale, this song is not to be missed.
The album slows down to close with “Of Angels and Angles,” a simple yet elegant track that wraps up the disc perfectly.
From the intelligently crafted (and incredibly diverse) lyrics to the unique sound it brings to the world, Picaresque has passion that can be found in every meticulously placed word and note on the disc. It comes with my highest recommendations.
The Decemberists did this for me in a big way.
After reading good things about them for a while, I finally got around to picking up the album. I was blown away. This was something new. This was fresh. It was, without a doubt, one of the most exciting records I'd heard all year, and for the past few years.
The album begins with some unique animal sounds, with no music in the background. Colin Meloy's vocals break in with “Here she comes,” and the musical part of the first track, “The Infanta,” begins. It is one of the more upbeat tracks of the album, and features heavy utilization of animals in the lyrics.
Now I must interject and say something – Colin Meloy's meticulous attention to detail in his lyrics is unsurpassed from any artist I've ever seen. There are plenty of great lyricists in the world, and I'm not going to say that Meloy is the best, but he has such a unique style that manages to blend in some great storytelling, and the lyrics read like a book. A damn good book, the kind you'd read cover to cover to fully grasp all of the metaphors that he has hidden within the lines.
After “The Infanta,” the beautiful folk arrangements of The Decemberists' musicians become even more apparent. “We Both Go Down Together” is a touching slow track that details us of the narrator's forbidden love with a woman from a different class than his own, and hints at her loss of virginity to him. It is followed by “Eli, the Barrow Boy,” my personal favourite from the album. More similar to Celtic folk music than anything you'll hear in Indie, it tells of a poor merchant boy who couldn't afford to buy his now-deceased love the things he felt she deserved, and it climaxes with his body being found in a river – how he got there is left up to the listener.
The album's pace picks up with “The Sporting Life,” which offers an interesting view of the glories of competition, by narrating from the point of view of an athlete who has just fell in the middle of the event, letting down his coach, father, team, and crowd.
“From My Own True Love (Lost at Sea)” is a slow-paced and tragic song of a narrator waiting on the postal service to deliver a letter from their loved one, who has been, as the title suggests, lost at sea. “Sixteen Military Wives,” the album's single, is a catchy, upbeat tune with a lyrical focus on numbers, and a chorus that proudly exclaims “Cheer them on to their rivals, / 'Cause America can, and America can't say no / And America does, if America says it's so / It's so!”
One of the highlights of the album is “The Mariner's Revenge Song,” an epic eight-minute track which features a great accordian melody that Meloy sings over. The beat is completely infectious, and the song manages to go for eight minutes without ever getting tiring. Meloy's ability to weave a magical tale in the midst of a great tune is nowhere as apparent as it is on this song, describing the long battle the narrator has with his mother's death, and how he goes about getting the revenge she wishes for on her death bed. Complete with a beautiful intermission of instrumentation halfway through, and an attack by a whale, this song is not to be missed.
The album slows down to close with “Of Angels and Angles,” a simple yet elegant track that wraps up the disc perfectly.
From the intelligently crafted (and incredibly diverse) lyrics to the unique sound it brings to the world, Picaresque has passion that can be found in every meticulously placed word and note on the disc. It comes with my highest recommendations.