Indie-pop powerhouses The Decemberists have garnered much well-earned acclaim during their five-year existence, due mostly to bandleader Colin Meloy's melodic prowess and imaginative lyrics. So much acclaim, in fact, that Capitol Records went knocking on their door -- successfully -- late last year. This news raised the question: Would they be forced to dumb down their wordy, English major-friendly tunes to reach the masses? Their major-label debut should put all these fears to rest. The Crane Wife brings the hyper-literate pain they'd previously established.
The album's title and its eponymous two-track, three-movement song suite refer to a Japanese folktale in which a good Samaritan cares for a wounded crane. The crane returns in human form to marry her caretaker until his selfishness and greed force her to adopt crane form again and fly away. The unusual sequencing of the album, which begins with "The Crane Wife 3" as the first track before returning to parts one and two, fragments the narrative of the Japanese legend but gives The Crane Wife a much-appreciated sense of tonal coherence.
The album ends with the idyllic and whimsical "Sons and Daughters," with penultimate track "The Crane Wife 1 & 2" lending a better transition than the achingly mournful third act ever could. On the other hand, the gloom of "The Crane Wife 3" transitions surprisingly well into track two's menacing prog-rock opus "The Island."
That's right, "prog-rock opus." Those unfamiliar with the band's 2004 prog-informed E.P. The Tain, which was also inspired by a folktale, may be surprised by this album's forays into hard rock. "The Island" offers three sections of brooding progressive rock, with the keyboard-driven, overwhelmingly Celtic middle section, subtitled "The Landlord's Daughter," giving these rock gods their long-awaited Stonehenge moment. The Decemberists again break out the hard-rock textures on "When the War Came." This one, unfortunately, will have you pressing skip before you can say "Zeppelin rules," as its plodding non-tune provides the only unsalvageable dud on The Crane Wife. Their attempt at vaguely danceable neo-New Wave, found in "The Perfect Crime 2," is far more successful. It combines a quasi-Talking Heads bass line with Meloy's trademark ominous lyrical imagery ("Sing, muse, of the passion of the pistol / Sing, muse, of the warning by the whistle.") to form one of the album's many highlights.
Though this is the first Decemberists full-length that shows the band's diverse influences, hitting such disparate bases as neo-prog and post-punk, fans of their more typical indie-folk stylings should not despair. Despite the occasional bout of sub-generic experimentation, the overall aesthetic of The Crane Wife is still more Richard Thompson than Jimmy Page. In fact, some of the most stellar tracks are also the most conventional. For example, "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)" tells the tale of a fallen Civil War soldier and his widow, with Meloy's lyrics buttressed by little more than a jangly acoustic accompaniment and the guest vocals of singer-songwriter Laura Veirs. But when the lovers trade lines like "When I was a girl how the hills of Oconee / Made a seam to hem me in" and "There at the fair when our eyes caught, careless / Got my heart right pierced by a pin," there's no need for bombastic production.
For all the funky bass lines and distorted guitars on this record, it really comes down to the lyrics. The Crane Wife is yet another consistently great release from The Decemberists, proving once and for all that Colin Meloy is the hardest working storyteller in indie rock.
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