The Decemberists make lyrics into an art form

The Decemberists - Picaresque 2005 Kill Rock Stars

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Fans of quirky rock and lyric storytelling, rejoice! You have yet again been blessed with the loquacious and oft-melodramatic magnificence of the Decemberists, courtesy of their third full-length release, Picaresque.

Rogues and knaves, indeed. In keeping with the title of their new album -- a reference to a type of Spanish fiction that deals with unsavory characters -- the ne'er-do-well rapscallions of the Decemberists have lent their folksy pop-rock songwriting skills to the creation of 11 tales, all of which chronicle the unfortunate lives of a rather disparate cast.

There is the destitute Miranda and her well-to-do lover, whose ill-fated affair is recorded in the lamentation "We Both Go Down Together."

"Meet me on my vast veranda / my sweet untouched Miranda / and while the seagulls are crying / we fall but our souls are flying."

Then there is also the vindictive justice of "The Mariner's Revenge Song," a visceral sea-chantey that tells a withering tale of retribution. It bears noting that the entire story is told by the narrator whilst he and his quarry are inside the belly of a whale:

"Its ribs are ceiling beams / Its guts are carpeting / I guess we have some time to kill."

In stark contrast, "The Sporting Life" plays with the straightforward vivacity of a pop-rock band like the Weakerthans. There are scads of hooks and plenty of percussion with which to angle the attentions of unwary passersby, all while telling the woeful tale of an injured athlete.

"The Bagman's Gambit" follows suit with simple acoustic verses, only to dive back into instrumental complexity (strings, percussion, etc.) for the chorus. The song's premise is a simple one: the dissolution of a Washington civil servant's love affair with a Soviet spy.

"It was late one night / I was awoken by the telephone / I heard a strangled cry on the end of the line / purloined in Petrograd / they were suspicious of where your loyalties lay / so I paid off a bureaucrat / to convince your captors there to secret you away."

While I sincerely doubt that there were any expectations of mediocrity, I am pleased to report that the Decemberists' Picaresque is a fantastic album from what is most certainly not your average band. Blessed threefold with agreeably gritty vocals á la the Shins, a penchant for instrumental experimentation that rivals the Arcade Fire, and a poetic modern-day mastery of the English language bested only by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats, the Decemberists eschew the presupposed cut-and-dry boundaries of pop-rock.

Lyrical idiosyncrasies notwithstanding, Chris Funk, Jenny Conlee, Rachel Blumberg, Nate Query and Colin Melroy make use of all the usual trappings of the rock band: guitars, drums, keyboards, banjos, trumpets, violins, mandolins, tubas, kettledrums, accordions ... OK, maybe there are a few unconventional instruments.

Still, the Decemberists employ them so effectively (not affectedly) that the changeup from pop song to folksy ballad goes virtually unnoticed. A mandolin may show up here or there to add depth to some guitar chords, or an accordion may provide an underlying melody to a song -- it's certainly different, but such musical peculiarities are by all means a pleasant change of pace from the stilted, synthesized ramblings of your average "guitar band."

Looking for a happy medium between the instrumental onslaught of ... And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead and the mellow indie-rock of Modest Mouse? Look to the Decemberists and their new album Picaresque; it's guaranteed fun for English majors.