Even before listening to it, "The Crane Wife" by The Decemberists is an interesting release. Not only is it the much-anticipated follow-up to 2004's critically and commercially revered "Picaresque," it is also the eccentric Portland quintet's first release on a major label (Capitol Records).
Whenever an indie mainstay makes such a move, fans and critics tend to wait with bated breath. Certainly there will be those who will dismiss this album merely because of its corporate, "The-Decemberists-sold-out" issue, but there can be no satisfying those who believe that anything other than indie is trash.
For the open-minded, however, "The Crane Wife" delivers strong, quirky material to entice first-time listeners, with enough classic Decemberists to keep long-time fans happy.
From the first lyric, the vocals are immediately striking. Always more a songwriter than a singer, frontman Colin Meloy used to be distinct for the uniqueness of his voice, not its quality. However, fresh from a national solo tour, he's confident, and that's all the better to hear the stories The Decemberists have constructed on this album. Grandiose lyrics have always been the band's strongest point, so this clearer, stronger voice makes for a formidable addition to the album.
The Decemberists' approach to music is literary (Meloy wanted to be a fiction writer before his sister Maile beat him to it). "The Crane Wife" speaks primarily of loss, particularly the loss of love. The title track, split into three parts across one track, is a retelling of the Japanese folk-tale in which a peasant, through his own vain curiosity, loses his enchanted wife.
This sense of loss is reiterated throughout: in "O Valencia!," an energetic, first single-material track which tells of star-crossed lovers; in "Summersong," the ballad of a love extinguished with the fading of summer; and in "Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then)," a ghostly song of devotion. With their usual mixture of beauty and creepiness, The Decemberists' exploration of loss is enthralling.
Also lost, unfortunately, is Jenny Conlee's accordion. "Summersong" is the only tune that prominently features the instrument, and this sad situation is indicative of a general trend. "The Crane Wife" shirks the cellos, violas, upright basses and brass sections we have come to expect from The Decemberists. For those accustomed to a fuller sound, it is truly a disappointment to see the instrumental landscape so sparse.
This shortage is not the album's only disappointment. The album opens and closes with two 12-minute tracks, bound to be described as "epic," but perhaps a bit self-indulgent. To compensate, the best songs of the album are bunched around these over-sized tracks, leaving a distinct weakness in the middle of the record. The Decemberists are still experimenting with sound, but some experiments are failures. "The Perfect Crime #2," an electric, almost funky track, is not a bad song, but certainly out of place on "The Crane Wife."
"When the War Came" will receive no such kindness. It not only fails to match the rest of the album, it is jarring and mostly unpleasant. The lyrics do such a poor job of explaining themselves that the story is unintelligible; one is more likely to construe it as protesting the Iraq War than to discern the obscure tale of a group of Russian botanists pledging to protect the cuttings and seeds entrusted to their care during the Siege of Leningrad.
The lucky seventh track, "Shankill Butchers," succeeds in being utterly creepy, and certainly merits a listen, but doesn't have the staying power of, for example, "Yankee Bayonet." This leaves three underwhelming songs in a row - quite a gap in a 10-song album.
Our heroes rally for their finale, however. As is The Decemberists' custom, after an album of violence, death, rape and general unhappiness, the audience is left with some encouragement.
The final song, "Sons and Daughters," arguably the best of the album, is an uplifting address that exudes optimism. The song's enthused vocals and folksy, determined beat close the album by letting us know that troubles are far behind us.
"The Crane Wife" does suffer from certain weak choices in music and arrangement, but these shortcomings are nowhere near sufficient to mask the talent and engaging style of this group.
The move to a major label means nothing if the band is still calling all the shots, and "The Crane Wife" is strong evidence that they are. The Decemberists, in all their whimsical glory, are still crafting the music they love to make and that we love to hear.
