Peeling the plastic wrapping off the new Decemberists album turned out to be the most aggravating experience of my life. I felt like a little girl so thrilled to get into a present that her excitement retarded her ability to actually open it. Luckily, it only took one listen to "Picaresque" in order to realize that my enthusiasm was completely justified.
The unabashedly eccentric Decemberists were formed in 2001 and have since gone on to become one of the most prolific and revered bands currently performing. Their songs are at times odd, sometimes mellow and occasionally sentimental, but they are never boring or predictable. The band complements exquisite, beautiful melodies with daringly original, Allen Ginsberg-esque lyrics to undeniably exciting effect.
Few can experience the Decemberists without being impressed by their unmistakable style. A bohemian fierceness festers in the group's presentation; they even have their own Edward Gorey-inspired font, which graces every album cover and bumper sticker they produce. Most importantly, lead singer Colin Meloy's strange voice infuses the group's music with a personality that defies categorization.
"Picaresque" is the group's third full-length release, and it lives up to and perhaps surpasses the standard set by its predecessors. Their first album, "Castaways and Cutouts," is thought by some music enthusiasts to be a perfectly constructed CD; sophomore effort "Her Majesty" has gained similar praise. Yet the much-awaited "Picaresque" stands apart from the first two collections in its overall grandeur. The band now employs a full orchestra, resulting in a powerful surge of originality.
The Decemberists' style means that they are subject to widely varying descriptions, with these descriptions sometimes contradicting each other. They're jubilant yet sarcastic. They're theatrical yet sincere. The track list for "Picaresque" proves similarly erratic.
"Infanta," the bold opening song, grabs the listener's attention with both its inspiring liveliness and its peculiarity. Also, Meloy's personal creation, a bizarre homage to Melville titled "The Mariner's Revenge Story," absolutely smokes as it tells the tale of a mother's rape and the subsequent revenge taken. These two songs act as epic bookends for a stylistically comprehensive track list.
The album's first single, "16 Military Wives," employs a thunderous, trumpet-heavy orchestra and features iconoclastic lyrics that question the politics and pop culture of today. Meloy belts out, "Fifteen celebrity mimes / Leaving their fifteen sorted wretched checkered lives / Will they find the solution in time / Using their fifteen pristine moderate liberal minds?" Some listeners adore this tune and some absolutely detest it, but I personally find it fresh, catchy and addictive.
The band's gentler side emerges in other songs, where Meloy's soft voice helps sculpt beautiful surges of honest emotion. For example, "Of Angels and Angles," the gentle acoustic ballad that concludes the album, is utterly mesmerizing in its loveliness.
Likewise, "The Engine Driver," despite its almost excessive sadness, manages to be sentimental without being bothersome. Lyrics like "And if you don't love me, let me go" and "I am a writer / Writer of fictions / I am the heart that you call home / And I've written pages upon pages / Trying to rid you from my bones" aren't nearly as mushy as they may appear in print. Meloy's voice makes them meaningful and heartbreakingly poignant.
Taking full advantage of the instruments at their disposal, the Decemberists explore strikingly different musical styles with certain songs. "We Both Go Down Together" has hints of the tango in its musical interludes, while "This Sporting Life" goes over the top with heavy drums and is definitely influenced by the swing genre.
It will vary by listener whether or not this experimentation works. I was charmed by "We Both Go Down Together" and turned off by "This Sporting Life," but my best friend and fellow Decemberists junkie had the opposite opinion. How one perceives the band differs from person to person, from minute to minute and from mood to mood -- few other bands can claim such a variable niche.
The band behaves in a playfully sarcastic manner, and its press releases are often questionable in their seriousness. The group claims that their "official drink" is Orangina and that they "travel exclusively by Dr. Herring's brand Dirigible Balloons." Indeed, a layer of mystery surrounds the band that can be perceived either as intriguing or simply irritating.
However, it is obvious that, in between these sprinkles of playful jest and sardonic wit, there lies a sincerity that makes the loving frailty of the Decemberists' music possible. They may instigate excitement with their fancifulness or trigger repulsion with their musical contortions, but one thing is certain regardless of the reaction that they elicit. In terms of inventiveness, the Decemberists stand apart.
