“Members fled from Texas and Ontario at young ages and joined with local youth, making their home in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. Somehow they survived the first terrible winters, and in August 2003 at the dusty Hotel 2 Tango they made some preliminary recordings for a new album. Partially due to the intense heat, two of the married each other. this time in the sun was short lived however, and soon the terrible winter of 2004 was upon them. To keep warm they recorded the remaining 9 tracks, at the Hotel and in Win and Regine’s apartment, on 24 track 2 inch tape, 1/2 inch 16 track, 1/2 inch 8 track, optimus ctr-108, and G_d-forsaken Computer. When family members kept dying they realized that they should call their first record “Funeral,” noting the irony of their first full length recording bearing a name with such closure.”

The “Neighborhood” saga tells a Lord of the Flies-esque story, where children dig tunnels through the snow and start their own feral civilization. It’s fitting then, that the first song of the album is called “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels).” From the beginning, when the grainy guitar comes in unison with the airy piano, the song foreshadows it’s own pairing innocence and evil; a trick only someone who had listened to the song religiously would pick up on. “And, if the snow buries my/my neighborhood” immediately shows the influence of writing and recording during a savage Canadian winter. The children get lost in the fantasy world they create (I always picture about two dozen kids huddling around a fire in a huge burrow in the snow, right in the middle of town.) and, in their minds at least, years pass. “Then we tried to name our babies/but we forgot all the names that/the names we used to know./And sometimes we remember our bedrooms/and our parents bedrooms/and the bedrooms of our friends/then we think of our parents/well what ever happened to them?” And then? The children all go insane, of course. “You change all the lead sleeping in my head to gold/as the day grows dim/I hear you sing a golden hymn/the song I’ve been trying to say./ Purify the colors/purify my mind/and spread the ashes of the colors over this heart of mine.”

The saga continues with “Neighborhood #2 (Laïka),” tho story of Alexander, and estranged older brother. This song has a lot of David Byrne influence in it, sort of yelling with pitch. Laïka was the name of the dog that the Russians launched into space, who died in orbit because they didn’t have a plan for getting him back; another way of saying “Our mother shoulda just named you ‘hopeless.” I sit and listen to the guitar at the beginning, and I can’t figure out how they made it do that; I think it sounds really cool. Again, the song dissolves into insanity: “Our older brother/bit by a vampire/for a year we caught his tears in a cup/and now we’re gonna make him drink it/Come on, Alex!/Don’t die or dry up!” This is the first time you really hear Regine’s wail as she shouts along with her husband. Just wait. We’ll hear more from her later. The song winds down to an almost surreal calm in comparison to the sheer energy earlier, but it’s a good transition into the next song.

The Quebecois influence is also often apparent in their lyrics, as they just randomly throw in French sentences with English ones, as seen in “Une Année Sans Lumière,” or “A Year Without Light.” It’s the gentlest song so far, featuring almost under-done vocals that wouldn’t have been appropriate on the other two songs, and a gently rocking guitar melody that could almost lull you to sleep. Even the hoots are quietly owl-like and less raucous than usual. However, in true rock style, they can’t have a slow song on their album! So the last 45 seconds are the sort of thing ska fans could bang their heads to. Except, you know, with no horns.

The saga continues with “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)”  While none of the lyrics are outwardly violent, this is certainly the most violently aura-ed song on the record, which is probably why it’s my favorite. The spitfire and rapid guitars are so percussive, they go perfect wiht the held violins and gunshot drums. “I woke up with the power out/not really something to shout about” Win scolds himself by yelling those words as the verse starts; the instruments are slightly quieter to accent the singing, but they have no less life and anger in them. Upon closer listening, you’ll hear the xylophones and the swooping guitar that serves as a ramp to get to the throat-busting high notes of each phrase, along with a crawling bassline. The section that starts at 2:48 give me chills nearly everytime I hear it, with the atonal violin and guitar riffing and singing that sounds like Win is about to keel over, it just gives the song even more energy once it’s over. This is the climax of the saga, with a video which I’m pretty sure is exactly what Win Butler was picturing when he wrote this. If you were going to go criminally insane in about five minutes, put this song on when you do it. It’ll make the crazy better. “You ain’t foolin’ nobody with the lights out.”

The saga wraps up with “Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettles)” the sort of day after a battle song od winding down and looking at the carnage. It welcomes you with an easily hummable guitar melody and the chord change squeeks that usually get taken out in production. It’s really incredible how well a kettle whistle goes with violins; both smooth yet wavering noises growing in intensity. “Just some water getting hotter in the flames.”

“Crown of Love” continues to mine the ballad vein, and it’s in 3:4. You know what that means; that means it’s a waltz, albeit a somewhat faster waltz than you would usually dance to, but a waltz none the less. It was arpeggio’d guitars and strings, and seemlessly flowing violins during the pleading and confessional chorus. “If you still want me/please forgive me/the crown of love/has fallen from me.” During the second verse, Regine’s signature wail comes in, and you can’t help but roll your eyes and smile; Arcade Fire, earnest to a fault. At 2:27, the song nearly collapses, and Win screams his final ultimatum, with all of the instruments, including Regine’s voice, there to back him up. The song speeds up, and the dancers frantically one-two-three and try to keep up. Then the song explodes and changes to 4:4, all the waltzers stop dancing and start skanking and/or headbanging, and Sarah and Owen (the violin players) rock out as hard as a violin can.

A guitar riffs on the same note. A drum hesitantly comes in, and then becomes confident with it’s beat. A horn comes in. Some strings. A harp glissandos, and the entire bands comes is the battlecry choir of “Wake Up.” This anthem urges you to not supress your children’s emotions, because then when they grow up they’ll have to immediately adjust to pain and failure when they grow up, and they’ll live meaning-less and emotion-less lives. “We’re just a million little gods causin’ rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust.” The second half of the song is a bob-your-head-back-and-forth ode to a senile super hero? Whatever. This song is fuckin’ awesome. “With my lighnin’ bolts a glowin’ I can’t see where I am goin’ when the reaper he reaches and touches my hand.”

Regine’s first song is an ode to her home country, “Haïti.” During this song, there is pretty much constant unpleasentness; either an air-raid siren, what sounds like heavy nose breathing, or slightly off key piano being pounded into submission. The (what instrument is that?) hook is near genius, and it’s so much fun to listen to her speak french. This is added to by Regine’s low-quality recorded vocals. I didn’t like this song very much at first, but it’s significantly grown on me. Good job, Regine. At the very end the tempo speeds up, and a thumping drum brings you seemlessly into

“Rebellion (Lies.)” Now, I’ve always been a fan of awesome bass lines, and this one is probably in my top 5 ever. “Sleepin’ is givin’ in, no matter what the time is. Sleepin’ is givin’ in, so lift those heavy eyelids. People say that you’ll die faster than without water, but we know it’s just a lie; scare your son, scare your daughter.” And the violins take over the melody, and you realize that this is one of those songs that gives you hope for humanity.  At 2:57 Win starts belting again, and there’s just these two handclaps that just make me smile and get even more into the song. The resounding chorus of “Lies! Lies!” echoes in your subconcious long after the song, the day, the month even, is done. This is tied with “Power Out” as my favorite song by these guys, and they’re one of my favorite artists.“Everytime you close your eyes, lies, lies.”

“In the Backseat” opens like a piano ballad, with Regine actually sounding pretty as she muses about the perks of not having to drive. However, as the chorus begins, the fuzzy guitars and aggressive strings come in as Regine sings like shes about to break down in tears. It calms down again, as the fuzz is lifted and the strings float you towards the second verse along with a muted drumroll. Then, of course, the song explodes again, and Regine begins to really wail in anguish. Again, I originally considered this song to be fluff, but I really get into the pain in her voice, even though her lyrics don’t really make any sense after the first couplet. As the song slowly winds back down and everything besides the strings fade out, you realize that there probably couldn’t have been a more appropriate ending to this record.

Funeral

You know it’s gonna be good the instant it starts; a crescendoing aah in three-part harmony that is immediately drowned out by excited beeps, thumping bass drums and a conservative high-hat. (Perhaps the high-hats parents are born again christians?) I think I might have fallen in love the first time I saw the adorable lead singer dancing with more hips that a ghetto woman. And then he opens his mouth, and he has a cute but powerful voice too! I love just watching him dance during the second verse with the partial skeleton on. Oh man, this song is so damn catchy! Fuck, now it’s gonna be stuck in my head all night.

Wow. I totally just geeked out about how cute the lead singer is. *Le Sigh*

A noise can never be truly captured with words. No matter how long you spend trying to describe a certain sound, there will be something missing from the point of view of the reader; their mind will fill in any spaces that you may have left and interpret your words slightly differently than you intended. “Something of an End,” the opening track to Shara Worden’s debut as My Brightest Diamond, makes me wish that this wasn’t fact. I wish I could spend a paragraph describing to you each and every second of tension in this wonderful song, but I don’t have the skills. The first couple seconds are what can only be described as the sound of twinkling, but the song really gets started when the foreboding bassline enters, with accompanying hit-and-run drum slams. Shara’s beautiful voice begins, just as foreboding, speaking of literal physical pain and a life with not much time left. “And then the earth started shaking/and yeah, it was crazy/heaven and hell came crashing down/and then the earth started shaking/yeah it’s so crazy/ heaven and hell came crashing/they came crashing/it was beautiful/and terrible.” The song opens up like video of a flower during sunrise that’s been sped up and shaken to make it seem artsy, all in a quiet beat before the “beautiful and terrible” chorus begins and Shara’s true power wails at you eardrums. The sun sets, and the flower closes, but it’s potential and tension are still waiting inside the petals, while Shara breathily imitates a phone ringing. As she sings the verse, you almost dread the storm you know is coming at the advent of the second chorus. This dread is multiplied when, at the section I quoted above begins again, a noise that was quite plainly meant to sound like the moans of the damned frightens the hell out of the casual listener who didn’t know what she was getting in to. After the chorus resolves, the bridge has a feel of immeasurable pity for the victim of the beautiful and terrible incident. “It was something of an end/of a lovely and a wild thing/so beautiful in the morning.” The bridge raises shut, and the resolution is a quiet and heartbreaking confession that you would have never expected from the bone-breaking tension of the song up to this point. “I can’t seem to get it through your head/that I’ll always/love you.”

It seems perfectly reasonable at this point, then, to follow up with “Golden Star,” which is, let’s be honest here, a three minute euphemism for an orgasm. This, of course, calls for a droning that begins barely audible and keeps getting louder until you have expect it to just drown you in sound no  matter how far you turn down your speakers, but instead breaks at the perfect moment and turns into guitar strumming and a fun little intermittent line that sounds like violins being plucked… and probably is. The sound comes down for the vocals, becoming unimportant behind the story being told, until verse (“and I feel like a golden star,”) and chorus (“Explode!”) flow seamlessly into each other, with her holding one long note while vocals that sound like they’re on the radio in the 1920′s sing about being full and rejoicing. At the end of the second chorus, “explode” turns from a multi-tracked, laid-back soar into a vibrato-full wail and then pops up for a quick shriek. This leads to a bridge of the same lyrics as before, just sung as powerfully as she can manage over near silence. This song crescendos to a sudden but inevitable halt that you can’t help from falling in love with.

The album finally calms down with “Gone Away.” When I asked my father for hos thoughts on this song, he simply said “Aagh! It’s so damn depressing! Make it stop, Taran!” which I think really fits this tear jerking ballad about a lost love. I can’t tell if the love went off to war, or died, or just plain walked out, but it’s an extremely powerful song regardless. It almost sounds like Shara’s slowly weeping as she sings. However, she couldn’t keep a song completely subdued, so the heart-wrenching bridge, full of anger and resentment, rips out into the realm of recovery and realization that mourning gets you nowhere. You have to move on eventually. “Cause you’ve gone away/where there isn’t a telephone wire/still I wait by the phone./You don’t even write/to say goodbye./Goodbye.”

If strings could jam without sounding like a bunch of fiddles, it would probably sound like the intro of “Dragonfly” (which has a great video.) This is a song where all of the instruments gently come together; not a one is obtrusive or steals the sound, but each is imperative to the gentle flight of the dragonfly. “I once saw a dragonfly/caught in a spider’s web/as I looked at her once more/I thought that she was dead/So I left her alone and I went on my way/and I was dreaming of Paris and Pierre Boulez/and she called to me with a beat of her wing/yes she called to me and said “Free me.” The strings hold for a second, and everything else stops, and then they dive right in to a soaring and incredible chorus. I always thought there were more lyrics than there actually are, due to a lot of intense aah-ing on Shara’s part. It draws to quiet and possibly sad close, starting as it began, with slow strings carving out a smooth melody.

The next track starts out like a small child messing with the low end of a piano, and quickly progresses into the rockiest rock song on the album. With a title like, “Freak Out,” how could you expect anything less? Shara’s vocals in this one sound like sound like an evil queen who’s soaking up raw power, and then releases it by shrieking the song’s title. When the bridge rolls around, it’s like the queen is using this energy to wage war on an unsuspecting kingdom, and then after the battle is over, she walks slowly through the smoldering wastelands in which she is the only life. And yes, the wind-down really is that creepy.

From the explosive and ear-splitting to the quietude and creepiness of “Freak Out,” it’s good get back to good ol’ love-lost-land. (I get paid extra for alliteration.) “There was a silver a tree down by a river wide/that’s where we would go/to hang the pretty things/and watch the wind blow.” As the first verse draws to a close, you realize there’s no way that this story is going to end happily; the persistent yet so relaxed it’s almost drunken guitar just doesn’t have the potential to be anything uplifting. “There used to be a tree where we took out pretty things/we’d hood them by a thread/golden eggs, lipstick and feathers/pieces of glass/chandelier baubles and empty bottles of wine/and watch the light shine through.”
“I’m afraid to forget you
I am remembering you
You were sparkling too.”
On the word “too,” a chorus of first sopranos come in and just hold it and hold it over a simple a lonely plucked guitar, along with what sounds like some one slowly moving a chandelier back and forth, which just quadruples the effect of the imagery, which seems to slowly morph the guitar’s part to mirror the effect. I believe it’s safe to say that this is my favorite song on this album, which is saying a lot. I mean, just look at how much I wrote for “Something of an End.”

At the starting notes of “Disappear,” you immediately get sucked into the bouncy ride. This is one of those songs where I just sit and slowly sway in rhythm with a contented smile on my face, occasionally quietly singing along. I love just sitting and listening to all the subtle changes that make the song so much fun to listen to. The chorus can definitly be described as swelling; it’s sort of like a beach. Each phrase starts just as the wave is coming near, grows with the wave to a crash, and then slides away. I also realized during the chorus that nothing else can accomplish the same sound as the human voice (although strings can get pretty close,) and that really high aah’s are a very useful weapon in this band’s arsenal. As the chorus draws to a close you get a quick glimpse of the dystopian ending in store for you. After another verse and chorus, (including “Don’t be too *giggle* shocked.” which just make me giggle everytime I hear it.) the song turns into a minor key warning. “I don’t think we’re meant to stay here very long/I’d rather move on.”

The lone bass jam that starts “The Robin’s Jar” tells of yet another sad story, but this one is more of a tragedy than a breakup. The first verse tells of finding a dead robin the backyard, “But we were so sure that things hadn’t gone to far/so we prayed to God above/that he’d bring it back to us/and we put it in a jar/and waited/and waited/but Mama made us bury it/Mama made us bury it in the backyard.” The lone bass just keeps on going, but since the story’s over you wonder what else could be in the song. It’s probably just going to repeat again. That’s what I would have done. But that’s not sad enough. The second verse comes in and starts talking about the narrator’s best friend; how great she was, how pretty she was. “With the world pressing in on our backyard/she fell in backwards./We prayed to God above that he’d bring her back to us/so we put her in a box/and waited/for something to happen/but nothing happened/and Mama made me bury her/Mama made me bury her/Mama made me bury her in the backyard.”

Since that was such a feel-good number, let’s go with another song about death. Upon hearing “Magic Rabbit,” my first impression was “Wow, I never thought I’d hear a song this depressing that was about bunnies.” But from the first moment of that keening violin and meandering guitar, you know things aren’t going to end well for the rabbit. “I had a magic that would sing/maybe I took her from her mother too early/She never came out of recovery./Even on summer days she’d complain/she couldn’t get the chill out of her bones.” I just love the way Shara sings “out of her bones,” and even more the way she sings the word “chill.” It gives me chills. And when I’m listening to this song, I can’t help but picture a blonde haired maiden in a castle tower by night, and a cute little baby bunny by day. I also love that she has little glimpses of harmony, sung by a man to give that lower register. The chorus is, of course, just as creepy as the verses, but this song is growing on me, pretty damn fast; quickly becoming one of my favorites off the album. Another thing that gives me chills at the end is the blood curdling scream she gives on the last “rabbit:”
“Are you fading away, magic?
Are you fading away? All the rabbits died
Are you fading away in the spotlight?
Are you fading my magic rabbit”
And the following guitar hits are practically worthy of a nu-metal album, underneath Shara almost croaking the word “rabbit” over and over again in a drugged out rage. God, I love her. So much.

I’m even in love with what I initally considered to be the weakest song on the album, “The Good & The Bad Guy,” a song of wanting a man no matter how he treats her. She loves him on his ornery and hear-breaking days just as much as on his gorgeous and wonderful days. If he even has those anymore. She’s just so much fun to sing along to, even (especially?) on these slow jazz inflected songs.

The album wraps up with the title track, “Workhorse,” another dark song about the death of an animal. I feel like I’d just be repeating myself if I wrote a big long thing about this song; it doesn’t differ a whole lot from the formula of “Robin’s Jar” and “Rabbit,” but that in no way makes it a lesser song. It’s just as good as the rest of the album.

Just to put a topper on this, I want to reiterate that her version of “Feelin’ Good” is really quite spectacular, and the only reason I know who she is in the first place. (Actually, I’m pretty sure I first heard of her in a blurb in The Onion when she had a show in Madison.) If you haven’t seen my review of Dark Was The Night, it’s on there.

Bring Me The Workhorse

Alright, Deedles, here it is, just like you asked! Note: Almost every song has an official video, which I have linked to in the song titles. Check ‘em out! Plus, it’s a good way to listen to the songs while you read about them. Ugh. I’m too tired to proofread right now. Boo for grammatical errors and sentences that don’t make sense.

You know what this album is going to be like within the first 3 seconds. (This figure is not an estimation. Seriously. Pause the song at three seconds, and then continue reading and be astonished at how fucking right I am.) It’s a collection of powerful piano driven songs, some ridiculously rock, some ridiculously depressing, and some ridiculously cynical. With a hissing intake of breath, a shout of “GO!” and slamming piano chords, Amanda Palmer of the Dresden Dolls says that much and more. The first track, entitled “Astronaut,” rocks the house with it’s brooding and lamented ode to a lost love (think “Challenger Explosion” and you’ll be on the right track.) But this song also does something important; it shows you her vocal range, which is not to be taken lightly. This chick is a full blown baritone, and sings down in that range often. This song is a great way to get hooked on this fantastic album, so it’s fitting that it’s the first song.

Amanda doesn’t let the energy die, following up with the this-chick-has-hella-issues rapidfire of “Runs In The Family.” It’s a short song, less than three minutes, but you don’t even begin to notice due to the sheer mass of lyrics landing on you eardrums. The song builds until it finally explodes at the last chorus with undeniable catchiness and intensity. After the song ends, there’s a few seconds of silence in which you hear a door open and close. Beware. This is a sign of things to come. Standout track.

“Ampersand” brings it down a little bit with a spurnful look at living in someone’s shadow. You really hear the Ben Folds production/influence in the intro, and then she makes you smile while stilll making you feel slightly sorry for her. The second verse is some of the best songwriting I’ve seen in a while. “The ghetto boys are catcalling me/as I pull my keys from my pocket./I wonder if this method of courtship/has ever been effective./Has any girl in history said/’Sure, you seem so nice, let’s get it on’/Still, I always shock them when I answer/’Hi my name’s Amanda” The bridge of this song might actually one of the best moments on the album, bringing the fire from the first two songs into what would otherwise be a ballad. In light of that, the last two choruses soar and bring the whole song full circle, driving the point home. The final note is held,

and right away the subdued baritone comes in; you can almost hear her sexily raising one of her tattooed eyebrows at you in the beginning jazz of “Leeds United.” [If you don't watch any of the other videos, watch this one. It's truely incredible, and it adds so much to an already great song.] Upon hearing the first notes, I just start smiling about how amazing this song is, because I remember what’s coming next. With lines dripping with cynicism and a tainted world view, like “Who needs love when there’s Law & Order/and who needs love when there’s Southern Comfort/and who needs love at all?” That last phrase is practically screamed, with vocals so powerful that they fuzz out the microphone. This is a perfect example of the kind of staying power that piano rock will always have. When the horns come in, my first thought was, “Of course. That’s the next logical step in this song.” I can’t write any more about this song. I feel like I’ll cheapen it. [Are you okay? Amanda. Amanda, stop. Stop.]

At surface value, “Blake Says” sort of seems like lazy song writing; with a simple melody and easy-to-play piano and lyrics that you think you could have written in five minutes. However, this song is the deffinition of a grower, especially if, like me, you don’t really pay attention to the lyrics the first couple times through. Each verse adds a new layer of sympathy for Blake, as well as a new layer of complexity to the instrumentation; accentuated cymbals, a very noticable second vocal track, etc. You really get into the song at about two and a half minutes in when the howling, haunting, piercing synth and accompanying opera-esque aah’s come in and tell you that this story probably isn’t going to end well. “Blake says it looks like acid rain today.” [Amanda, stop. Stop. Amanda, stop. Listen to me.]

“Strength Through Music” begins with this totally fuckin’ wierd voiceover, that I still don’t get, (talking about turning Iron and Sulfur into Gold,) but once it gets past that weirdness it turns into one of the scariest songs I’ve heard in a while. I don’t know any of the lyrics, other than “Tick tick tick tick tick/Tick tick tick tick tick.” which is whispered between verses. But this song utilizes silence and simplicity to a near perfect effect. I say simplicity, because the same two chords are played over and over, but it doesn’t get boring. Oh no, “Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick Boom.”

“Hey ho, let’s go.” The art of the album is dying, but following the near silence of “Strength Through Music” with the only guitar-driven song on the album, aptly named “Guitar Hero,” is the perfect move. “I could save you baby, but it isn’t worth my time/and I could make you chase me for a little ‘price is right.” She has also mastered the art of switching octaves for damatic effect, and, if you haven’t noticed yet, this album is nothing if not dramatic. This song looks on at the development of an aspiring rock star who achives his dream and then… dies in an explosion? Tell me what you think “is up with this shit.” Amanda certainly puts her pipes to the test in this one, wailing to a completely climactic finish; there’s no coming down from this one.

“Have to Drive” is the prettiest song on the record, remeniscent of “The Luckiest” or possibly even “My Immortal.” You hear the Ben Folds influence in the subtle strings and the almost drowning out of the subdued piano. However, about halfway through, the good old angry Amanda comes in and turns it into a ballad almost like “In The Backseat,” put with so much more pain. The ending brings in a full choir, with swelling strings worthy of an album ender, but she brings it back down with the quietest vocals yet.

She follows that gem up with a lovely little story about domestic abuse, bringing in Annie Clark (aka St. Vincent) for the guest vocals on “What’s the Use of Won’drin.” It sounds like it could have been written and recorded in the 1940′s, the completely vanilla and not country at all version of “Stand By Your Man,” except it’s saying it all ironically. When I first heard this song, I didn’t understand at all why it was on this album along with all these great cuts, but now I’ve figured it out. These songs are all really depressing, and this one’s no different.

In “Oasis,” the narrator gets raped, an abortion, and shunned because her best friend tells everyone she’s a crackwhore. But it’s okay because she gets a signedphotograph of the band Oasis in the mail. Oh, and she’s gonna go see Blur in October. For obvious reasons, many people find this video really offensive, but I think it’s hilarious. This has the most obvious Ben Folds, considering he offers harmony vocals, and those 50′s doo-wop backup vocals he’s so fond of. I just love how you can hear the big giddy smile in her vocals. Fantastic. [A:(indescernable laugh-speaking) B: Sick. A:(laughing) Oh my god. B: So gross... I think we should do that one again. Right? Might as well, good set up. Right?... What is this stuff? Is it real blood? A: No, it's not real blood. B: Aw, bitch! You're incredible, you know that? *Door slam* A: (laughs) That was good.]

“The Point of it All” hovers in the land between ballad and rock song in the realm of thoughtfulness. But, like the rest of the album, it’s pretty damn depressing. With lyrics like “No one can stare at the wall as good as you, my baby doll,” you almost wince at the sort of screwed up brain you don’t thank fate enough for sparing you from. However, it’s the only song on the entire album that doesn’t end soon enough, it’s just not intriguing or changing enough to last for five and a half minutes. As my Uncle Mikki says, “If it’s longer than three and a half minutes, it’s too long anyway.” While I don’t completely agree with this statement, it does apply in certain instances, this being one of them.

“Another Year” starts out like it’s gonna be a slow end to a manic-depressive record, and it doesn’t dissapoint, while becoming slightly less somber and more major-key during the verses, the piano interludes sound like the river of tears is on it’s way. While it never quite achieves soul crushing sadness, this song keeps you listening all the way through, and it swells to a finish worthy of such an emotional album. As it draws you to a close, you have this sort of “What just happened” feeling, and it draws you in to listen to the whole album again. Fuck yeah.

Who Killed Amanda Palmer?

Go.

Veckatimest, named after an island in Massachusetts, is a rare gem of modern folk-pop. It’s starts with an laid-back but slightly sinister acoustic guitar in “Southern Point,” and the soaring chorus is a large contrast to the minor-key verses. You can feel the tension in the jangling tambourine, the gunshot percussion, and wall of noise that assaults you eardrums. Suddenly, the melody changes, and the second movement begins. An incredible experience of jarring silences and ear-splitting crescendos leaves you in a daze as the song draws to a close with the same guitar melody as the beginning.

“Two Weeks”s persistent piano is such a stark contrast from the first song, that you think maybe you left you library on shuffle. The first vocals are fantastic, three-part “Oh-oo-woah’s,” (also recreated in concerted because all four members of the band sing, with two of them sharing most of the lead vocals.) and they start a tradition of prominent and interesting backup vocals that is carried on throughout the entire album. I didn’t fully appreciate this song until I saw the video, but now it’s one of my favorites. Mind blowing.

After the joy of “Two Weeks,” the near-somber prep course of “All We Ask” is a hard let down. But, soon, the rapid guitar slows and halts, and when the vocals and drums come back in, you get back into the groove of the album. By the time the chorus hits, you’re swaying back and forth with a grin like a pothead. The song wraps up with a harmonious, hand-clapping, and harrowing “I can’t/get out/of what I’m into/with you.” and the lone droning underneath does absolutely nothing to prep you for the completely in tune falsetto wailing that floats in on “Fine For Now.”

After that, the guitar hook comes in. A note: For the rest of the album, with one or two exceptions, each song has a guitar hook that distinguishes it from the rest. These hooks are occasionally played at the same time as the vocals, and when that happens, it almost doesn’t matter what they’re singing about, because the vocals are usually just there to be sustained and pretty while the guitar entrances you. This pattern of song writing surprisingly holds up for an entire album, but to the point that these are the only songs I have listened to this much that I can only tell apart by melody and not by the unmemorable song titles. I have to hear these songs before I remember what they are. All that being said, this song is fantastic.  The ending repeats the same melody, but the guitars remind me of something Explosions in the Sky would record.

“Cheerleader” follows the formula, but instead of the guitar, the bass drives the song. The creepy chorus of “I’m shooting the myself, I should have made it matter.” repeats over and over, boring it’s creepy and haunting image into your brain with the powerdrill of near-whispered vocals. There are ‘aah’s’ in the background that remind me of TMBG’s “Minimum Wage,” and crazy glissandos that spice up the stark structure. The ending devolves into beautiful nothing, and the drum keeps a steady pounding right up to the end.

At first, nothing surprises you about “Dory.” They start a capella with wavering ‘aah’s’ and ‘oh’s,’ and even the song proper starts with a scaling “oh” before digressing into the quirky melody that actually sounds like the darting blue from Finding Nemo. Then it gets to the line “We’re swimming ’round like two Dorys/We’re swimming ’round like two Dorys/let loose in the bay.” and you can’t help it. You start smiling and you just dont stop until the creepy second movement starts in. Most people couldn’t sing “Oh such a riot!” unironically, but these bitches can. Props, bro.

“Ready, Able” has a quiet, pulsing begining that is reminiscent of something that would scare the fishes in Fantasia. There’s a subterrenean tube of lava, and occasionally that tube spings a leak. Violently.  The vocals are the frightened villagers looking on, and when it gets to the chorus, it’s the villagers finding someone they thought had died in the eruption, and they’re happy. Then the breakdown is the lava slowly coming down and destroying their homes. I know, I’m freaked out by how good of a metaphor that is, too. Just listen to it, and you’ll see. You’ll be like “Holy damn, that’s totally what it’s like. “They go we go, I want you to know, what I did I did.”

“About Face” is all happy and stuff, and you are reminded that this album hasn’t been making you well up the entire time. You can’t just bob your head to this song either, because it feels unnatural. You have to the chin scoop with it, to complete the mood of the song. This song also illustrates again that Grizzly Bear has mastered the use of the vocal echo, both as an applied effect and as a backup vocal technique.

“Hold Still” wins the award for shortest song on the album. It’s a slow-paced, entrancing navel-gazer with a great guitar hook.

They bump up the tempo nob and bring back the full fledged backups for “While You Wait For the Others,” a jaunty tune about getting kind of annoyed with “you.” Seriously, “you’re” so thick-headed. This is one of solidest songs on here, with not-boring verses, a catchy chorus, and a really fun breakdown. Sometimes I just listen to the last minute and a half of this song because it’s so fun. Plus, the lead vocalist really wails on this one, something notable lacking from the hushed tones of most of the album.

“I Live With You” starts out like a lot of St. Vincent songs; with flute that sounds like it was played on a keyboard. However, once the song gets started (like a lot of St. Vincent songs) it’s a really good tune. The smooth, swelling saxophone reminds me of Billy Joel (because saxophones always do) and then mildly threatening “They’ll try,” complete with octave up, builds, threatens, and repeats, until a scream/sing that would make Win Butler proud rips open the gates of sound that this song was holding back. Oh man, I wish I could show you these goosebumps. Harmonious wailing. Huh. I think I’m gonna start using “Harmonious Wailing!” as an explitive. After the explosion calms down, it settles back into the routine, but “You’ll try,” and the following scream would not only make Win Butler proud, but prossibly (new word! possibly/probably) bring a tear to his eye.

After the sonic explosions of  “I Live With You,” you need something to lay you back down gently. So, in response to this demond, Grizzly hires a traveling cloud of feathers to float you back down. I’ve listened to this album 18 times, all the way through, but I’ve listened to “Foreground” 43 times. This is prossibly not everyone’s pick for standout track, but few songs accomplish the sheer beauty that is this song. There’s something about piano and strings that just go so well together.

“Take on another shift
Palms in the middle, hands in the middle
Work out another rift
Something is muffled, another juggle

This is a foreground.
It is a foreground.

A cross country miss
Take direction, can’t connect it
I’m afraid this is
Ten detected, nine in a wreck and…
A little jetty fight
Pattern evolving, motion insolvent
Something about this might
Take all evening, I’ll just be cleaning.

This is a foreground.
It is a foreground.”

To wrap up this review, I just want to reiterate that this band, with some assistance from Feist, has made an amazing little gem called “Service Bell.” You may have read about this if you’ve read my “A Mix Cd That I Would Make” post, about the Dark Was The Night compilation. After a very small amount of research, I found out that this track was originally from Grizzly Bear’s 2004 record, Horn of Plenty, but the original pales in comparison. Get this track. It’s a must.

Pretty Colours!... Um... Just Kidding?

“Do I get the gold chariot? Do I float through the ceiling?”

“God Made The Automobile” is where you realize you’ve really gotten to the good stuff. It opens with eggshakers and half-hum, half-aahs that continue throughout a la “Trapeze Swinger”. It has a really singable melody, and it keeps moving; the banjo part makes me smile. A lot of his banjo parts have that effect. “God made the automobile, and I made a little boy.” “Homeward These Shoes” is a minute and a half long, but you only kind of notice. It feels just as developed as any of his two and a half minute songs.  I want this song to repeat, with a full choir coming in the second time through. I think that would be awesome. The next track is a cover of some 80′s song. “Love Vigilantes” is the story of a soldier whose wife gets a telegram, and there’s a better version offered as a bonus track on iTunes. This version is faster than the other one, with more percussive guitar, and the harmony his sister adds are sorely missed. I knew the other version already because it was offered on an iTunes exclusive EP a while back and I bought it. But seriously, check this one out.

Huge fans might know “Sinning Hands” from his Live at Lollapalooza EP, but this is it’s first studio release. It’s another Endless Numbered outtake, and the style kind of gets repetetive at this point. The song structure is more similair to something off of Shepherd’s Dog, however, with the verse-instrumental break-verse format, so that’s a nice change. This is another one that would benefit from being faster. But I guess it wouldn’t be the same song then. The ending actually kind of reminds me of Built To Spill’s “Conventional Wisdom.” Huh. There’s a comparison I wasn’t expecting. They might be in the same key or something.

“No Moon” Reminds me off what “Woman King” would be if it was slower. Strange percussion, dissonant but not unpleasant harmonies, a similair styled melody, a repetetive slide guitar part to serve as a break between verses, a guitar part with a big jump in it. It’s almost as though he wrote this song, and then took all the good things from it and made a better song. Works for me I guess. Analysis like this is what happens when you listen to everything someone has ever recorded.

“Serpent Charmer” is the beginning of the Shepherd’s Dog era stuff, as is evidenced by the noise at the beginning. Pure, unproduced Iron & Wine would never have but that in, and I’m so glad that he has matured as a song writer. And if you don’t get it right awaym this song is entrancing. You are the snake. The vocal melody of this song is simple, but as good as it gets, as is the banjo part. I always think of banjo as being a negative thing, but it so isn’t. It’s another short one, but so is “Naked As We Came” and that song’s amazing. This is a standout track.

You know what else is a standout track? “Carried Home.” It has echoes of “Peace Beneath The City” but has more piano, his voice is clearer, and it’s a little slower. It has a piano solo, and then the outro. Oh, the outro. At 2:23, a mantra-like wail of “Carried home, carried home,” begins, slowly adding more harmonies, as well as more off-beat guitar plucks and piano improving. The vocals dissolve away at 4:40, and saxophone comes in, the guitar picking stops, a synth riff starts, a weird bass comes in, and ohmygodmybrainmelted. This song was originally a B-side to “Boy With A Coin.” Imagine those two together and allow you mind to be blown.

“Kingdom of the Animals” is the other B-Side from “BWAC” and it’s a piano driven feel-good jaunt. It has some great background vocals, but that’s kinda ll it has going for it. It’s fun to listen to , but I’m not gonna go out of my way for – ACCORDIAN SOLO! What? Yes! That’s fantastic. And now the song is better. *Starts song over* Yep, it’s still boring ACCORDIAN and now it’s good. Incredible songwriting right there.

“It’s a cold, cold place in the arms of a thief.” “Arms of a Theif” would have been at home on Shepherd’s Dog, and I wish it was on there so I could’ve gotten to know it sooner. It’s very electronic, and it’s probably the fastest song on this album. It has Sam’s standard epic backup vocals, but they seriously just make a great song amazing. He also has the octave effect going for him on this one, singing really low and mildly high at the same time.

The collection wraps up with the first, official, Iron & Wine release of “The Trapeze Swinger.” See my post entitled “My Parents Keep Scolding Me” for a full review, but yeah, it’s still amazing.

¡Adios, mis amores!

Disc one starts with “Dearest Forsaken,” a great song that has already been on three other EP/Singles, so die hard fans knew it already. It is from the early days (as are a lot of the early songs,) so the vocals are hushed and breathy, the guitar is mildly fuzzed, and the banjo is echoy. “Morning” is features guitar a la “Naked As We Came” and the standard slide guitar, but I could take it or leave it. “Loud As Hope” has a more interesting melody, and the slide guitar is used more effectively. It’s amazing what that instrument can do for a song; I really think nothing else has the same effect. “Peng! 33″ (which is apparently a cover, although I’d never heard of it before,) is really fun to listen to; it doesn’t have the usual writing style that Sam employs, especially early on, but it’s unmistakeably Iron & Wine. “Sacred Vision” is a gorgeous slow song with great harmonies, something less common in his early work. “Friends They Are Jewels” is boring and way too long. (Sadly, that’s also common in his early stuff… ) “Hickory” would be a really good song if it was about twice as fast; it tells a good story and has a fun chord progression and banjo part. Maybe it would be good live. “Waitin’ For a Superman” is Sam’s voice at it’s breathiest, and I think this song benefits from it. It’s in clear contrast to the crisp guitar and even crisp lyrics.

“Swans and The Swimming” comes up as a surprise; it seems as though this song was the gateway between Creek and Endless Numbered Days. It’s guitar part is really intricate, and less repetitive than the other early songs. This is by far the best song so far. “Call Your Boys” is another slow boring one, and it over uses the slide guitar to the effect that it gets boring and almost annoying. This disc ends with his cover of “Such Great Heights,” which if you haven’t heard, you’ve been living under a rock. The majority of people who know Iron & Wine know him because this song was on the Garden State Soundtrack. (Or at least that was true until “Flightless Bird, American Mouth” was in Twilight. Gag me with a spoon. I hate Twilight fans.)

Disc Two will be up sometime tomorrow! It’s way better! I know that already.

Album Art for "Around The Well"

Video!

The “Prelude” kinda confused me; I thought something had gone wrong in the downloading process, but in truth this song is very quiet. I’m pretty sure it’s silent for the first 30 seconds. Once you get past that, though, this album is almost one solid song, divided into movements. The songs flow seamlessly into each other in one continuous opus, reprising and repeating each other. Many of the songs can be listened to by themselves, and in fact, are, often, by me; especially “The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid” because it;s the first track featuring Shara, and it’s just so damn powerful. But I’m also very partial to “Won’t Want For Love (Margaret in The Taiga)” which is the first song with Becky. This album is just so masterfully put together; all of the riffs are catchy, all the parts (all two of them) so well cast.

I was originally quite surprised when I saw that “The Rake’s Song” was far and away the most downloaded song off of this masterpiece, but then I gave it another listen. It’s quite angry, and tells a story in and of itself, one of an unwanted marriage, death, and violence. The screaming chorus of  “Alright, alright, alright,” shows the deranged nature of the narrator, and explains the role he plays in the story. Now it gives me chills every time I listen to it.

I recommend this album to any fans of any one I have mentioned on this blog that wasn’t in my “Essence of Me” post.

The Decemberists with Shara & Becky