The Decemberists - The Crane Wife

The Decemberists
The Crane Wife
Capitol Records
Grade: A

With an air of great commotion surrounding the release, the Decemberists’ latest effort The Crane Wife is simply spectacular. Here, the Decemberists have offered one of the most brilliant literary theatrical indie rock records in the past decade. Think of the Decemberists’ past records as a warm up for The Crane Wife.

More than a few people were concerned about the effect of signing with Capitol would have on the music of the Decemberists. Would it turn the story-driven, picture-painting words of Colin Meloy and music of the band into something more commercially viable (at least in the eyes of record execs)? Would the band be exploited and then subsequently dropped for not going platinum? We don’t know the answer to the last question, but the former question is clearly answered on the Crane Wife. The ten songs are not designed to whet the appetites of the average, top-forty radio music fan; yet that doesn’t temper their appeal. (It’s also difficult to appease the radio programmers with thirteen-minute songs (e.g., “The Island:…”), even if radio’s influence is slipping.) Instead, the songs follow a clear evolution of the band’s past material without missing a beat.

Once again joining Meloy for the journey into uncharted lyrical and musical waters are Nate Query (bass, assorted instruments), Jenny Conlee (organ, piano, assorted), Chris Funk (guitar, assorted), and John Moen (drums). With Chris Walla (Death Cab) and Tucker Martine helping to record and produce the record in the band’s hometown of Portland, Meloy sought out to craft the folk story of the Crane Wife. The concept of the record begins with Meloy coming across the Japanese folk story of the Crane Wife in the children’s section of a bookstore a while back. As the story and concept churned in his thoughts for a few years, Meloy understood to bring it to life would require additional parts and stories. And thus, the Crane Wife is not exactly a concept album around the original folk story, but more like a record generated and motivated by the folk story.

Admittedly, you need to be in the mood to first encounter the Decemberists’ thick, intricate storytelling often set with nineteenth-century British undertones. It is difficult to just walk in impatiently, because you’ll quickly pull away missing the appeal. Yet, if you set your feet and give it an honest listen, you’ll catch the fire and soon become a devotee.

And this is the mindset as the Crane Wife opens on “The Crane Wife 3,” the first of two other ‘Crane Wife’ bits. Beginning with Meloy and an acoustic guitar, the rest of the band joins about a minute in and launches into the chorus “And I Will Hang My Head Low.” “The Crane Wife 3” is a wise move to introduce you to the record and provides an accurate rendering of the forthcoming musical atmosphere. The aforementioned “The Island” follows and is comprised of three sections “Come and See,” “The Landlord’s Daughter,” and “You’ll Not Feel the Drowning.” “The Island” opens on a lengthy Pink Floyd-like moderate instrumental rock section before getting into the tale of abduction in “Come and See.” Though you’ve already heard some of Meloy’s lyrical enticements, “Come and See” is really the first site of his literary verboseness with lines like “Affix your barb and bayonet/The curlews carve their arabesques.” Those familiar with the Decemberists might foresee that a section called “The Landlord’s Daughter” might be about rape (or murder or unrequited love). The short “The Landlord’s Daughter” moves at quick tempo as an organ and acoustic guitars lead the way. The triumvirate of sections closes with the darker “You’ll Not Feel the Drowning,” clearly about murder with lines like “I will dress your eyelids/W’ dimes upon your eyes.” The Decemberists bring you back to the more traditional song structure with exceptional “Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then).” Laura Veirs joins Meloy on back-and-forth vocals about a dying Confederate soldier and his lady back home (think Cold Mountain without Inman coming home). “O Valencia!” serves as the Crane Wife’s most obvious single or emphasis track with uptempo rhythms and a slight catchiness. “The Perfect Crime #2” has the oddest music you’d probably ever expect to hear from the Decemberists. The riff is somewhere between bad 80s pop rock and slightly cool 80s U2, and Meloy accentuates this feeling with his inflection on the chorus. Probably the most musically average track on the record is “When the War Came,” where the only memorable part is the lyrical repetition of my hometown. This followed by the heavily downtrodden and sinister “Shankill Butchers,” a story about the Protestant group of killers in Belfast, Northern Ireland who targeted Catholics at night. Refixing the musical mood to the 80s pop rock is “Summersong” with soft ‘bop-bop bops’ in the background. One of the crown jewels on the Crane Wife comes from the other lengthy masterpiece, the eleven-minute “The Crane Wife 1 & 2.” Flattening the opener, “The Crane Wife 1 & 2” is blessed with parallels to the best in Belle & Sebastian without the British accent. The parallels come thanks to an acoustic guitar riff of quick tapping fingers, vocal cadence, and a simple, light beat. As the song grows more intense and begins to crescendo you get chills, and are thankful that the Decemberists exist. The cut-point literally comes halfway through (5:30) as they transition to part 2, which subsists on mellower moods for several minutes before a glorious ending of Meloy stretching the last word “Heart.” Easily “The Crane Wife 1 & 2” would make a terrific ending to the record, but the Decemberists push on to one more song, “Sons & Daughters,” and they may have chosen wisely. Allowing the music to flow seamlessly, you get trapped and attached most strongly to the first lines “When we arrive, sons and daughters/We’ll make our homes on the water/We’ll build our walls of aluminum/We’ll fill our mouths with cinnamon,” which serve as a several iteration, overlapping coda. Yet, possibly the true exclamation point to the “Sons & Daughters,” and the record in general, is Meloy leading a group singing “Hear all the bombs, they fade away” at the close.

In nearly all avenues, The Crane Wife triumphs over past Decemberists’ material and hopefully illustrates the evolution in the band’s future releases. If the Decemberists are ever received on a wide scale, future scholars will likely dissect Meloy’s lyrics and moods like current Dylanologists. In the meantime, get ahead of the curve and get one of the most richly conceived and critical records of the year in The Crane Wife.