The Decemberists - The Crane Wife (Rough Trade)
4/5
By: Thomas Hannan
You know from first noticing that it's 'The Crane Wife Part 3' that starts it, the end of the story at the beginning of the album, that for more than any Decemberists record ever, you're going to be needing to pay attention. What's more, you're going to need to be patient. First thing's first, you're going to need to learn to love Colin Meloy's voice if you don't already, as without adoration for his vocal tones you'll suffer the same fate as has befallen many an acquaintance of mine, that being missing out on great records like this one simply because they couldn't get past his slightly nasal singing. If you're able to focus on the songs as whole pieces of work (and like all of them, this one is delightfully solid), you'll have a much better hour. And really, with a melody like the one it possesses, this opener is one of the easiest to love.
The rest ain't easy, not by any means. Rewarding, yes, but not without effort being put in. After floating in the pleasant, calming, gently lapping waves of the opener, you're thrown abruptly on to 'The Island' a twelve minute long exploration of prog rock on which The Decemberists really do sound like King Crimson and use bizarre keyboards, falsetto yelping and unfathomable structural decisions to mess wit yo mind. Even for hardened fans, getting used to this might take weeks of intent listening. Whilst it's not difficult or abrasive, it's just, well, not The Decemberists. Except on this record, the funny thing is that this is The Decemberists. The Decemberists the prog band.
The first part 'The Island' you encounter, 'Come and See', isn't so shocking. In fact, it's a little dull. But it's 'The Landlord's Daughter' that'll turn perceptions of this band as twee and jangly on their head... what the bloody hell is going on here? From that unnervingly jaunty keyboard to Meloy's falsetto wail, everything about it is instantly, curiously, but most importantly addictively, wrong - especially that key change. Crikey. He's never going to make that note. Oh, hang on, he did? Well done the boy Meloy.
These contingent parts of 'The Island' could without hassle be three separate tracks, that might be what's so peculiar about it as a piece. Or maybe it's the songs themselves that make 'The Island' such an odd place to spend a dozen minutes.
Maybe it's the sandwich of 'The Landlord's Daughter', the chaotic exercise that it is, in between the scene setting 'Come and See' and beautifully eerie lullaby of 'You'll Not Feel The Drowning' that makes it so queer. Whatever, it's downright bizarre, and about that you will not quibble.
Bless them for following it with one of their best pop moments in 'Yankee Bayonett (I Will Be Home Then)', those male / female harmonies and lilting melodies once again taking centre stage, comforting us on our post-prog comedown expedition. The band we love are back. Yet the more you think about it as the rest of the record progresses, the more the daring nature of 'The Landlord's Daughter' impressed you, the more you want its daft prog and creepy howls to infect the rest of 'The Crane Wife'. Thankfully, you will get your wish fulfilled.
But not immediately - no, it's more perfect pop, just to keep you waiting, to make it even more rewarding, shocking and emotionally disturbing when the change happens. It's 'O Valencia' for now, and it soars, it's delicious and delightful but it's not dangerous like we've now been shown they can be. It's standard Decemberists, but this is fine for a few reasons - one, we've already had it demonstrated to us that this is an album on which the band are delighted to have the freedom to try lots of new things, so the reappearance of their pop nous doesn't at all point to a act running out of ideas, and two, standard Decemberists will always be fine because the standard they set is so startlingly high.
Oh, but then the descent in to madness begins, with 'The Perfect Crime No.2'. There are those keyboards again, there's that delayed guitar sound, there's that feeling that's making my eyebrows raise and my lips turn in to a strange, confused shape, the kind of which they've never formed before. What is this? Is it funk? Is it Stevie Wonder fronting Pavement? Where has their jangle gone? Where the hell is part one of this song anyway? Is that solo truly necessary? And is that the best chorus ever? Oh yeah, it is, and all the other questions don't matter, suddenly.
One minor, niggling slip in quality exists. On 'When the War Came', they go for something a little more jarring, that bit more angular. And whilst their head first leap in to the unknown had worked on 'The Landlord's Daughter', here it sounds depressingly half formed. Despite their inventiveness, their one real amazing trick remains Meloy's mastery of melody, and over this, the song's one guitar chord thwacked in a vaguely interesting rhythm, that skill doesn't have room to be shown off like it deserves to be.
We haven't long to wait however, as on the terrifying 'Shankhill Butchers', it's at its strongest. Here, the solos work because they emphasise that mournful, murderous melody. It's this album's 'Eli The Barrowboy', and it's sublime. But you'd be correct to think that, after picking up on the subtle undercurrents, there's better, creepier stuff to come.
In a bit. 'Summersong's next, but we'll brush over that as breezily as the melody of the song drifts over the beginning of the final portion of this remarkable record. And brush we do over to 'The Crane Wife, Pts 1 & 2'. And finally, we'll see that the story ended at the beginning of the LP towards its end will be allowed its beginning. It's eleven minutes long. It's a retelling of a Japanese folk tale (we'll let you research the tragic yarn of 'The Crane Wife' yourself, as we're rockfeedback, not friggin' Wikipedia). It's inventive, it's peculiar, it's atypical of the band, all of these things. But it's just the most luscious of melodies, delivered with such sincerity that you can picture tears in Meloy's eyes as he relates the dreadful tale of his Crane Wife. It is the arrival of the thing the rest of the record, with its fingers in pies marked 'melodious' and 'curious', for so long had hinted at. It's everything that their new LP does well brought together in one heartbreakingly tender, gleaming and harrowing song. Well, couple of songs.
There's a bit of light relief to end it, in the form of another infinitely whistle-able melody, named 'Sons and Daughters', a tune we'd call an outstanding piece of songcraft if it weren't for the fact that we're not still a little bit emotionally crippled by the first two parts of the 'Crane Wife' saga. It's been tough, but we got here, and we'll return. You'll come back to this for both its stories and the tunes it tells them to, focusing on a different facet of its wonder each time. It's a pleasure to be able to salute it not just for its ambition, but for the delightful execution of those ideas too.
Your Feedback
Login to post your comment