Do you like the Decemberists?
Thus far in their career, the Decemberists have done a certain thing a certain way, and not everybody digs it. An operatic, dramatic element has permeated their output in ways that have leant them the blessing and curse of not sounding like anybody else. That goes from singer Colin Meloy’s voice through to their penchant for concept on down to a love of left-field instrumentation and unique song structure. Some people have grown to love the approach, and others simply cannot abide it.
On their latest, What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World, the Decemberists make every effort to neutralize that situation entirely. And, what’s more, they acknowledge it immediately, in a charming opening track titled “The Singer Addresses His Audience.” As though letting partisans down easy before the band has actually let them down, Meloy opens the album by strumming a solo acoustic guitar and singing:
“We know. We know.
We belong to you.
We know you’ve built your life around us.
Would we change?
We had to change some.”
“We know. We know.
We belong to you.
We know you threw your arms around us
In the hopes we wouldn’t change.
But we had to change some.”
It’s an astounding introduction to what is, by and large, an astounding album. And they’re right: they have changed. On prior albums, the band had a love of weirdness for the sake of weirdness, pushing compositional boundaries in an effort to see what happened if, for instance, they put a meandering, nine-minute retelling of Jonah and the Whale on their breakthrough album(Picaresque), or released a rock opera in part about forest-dwelling fairies at the height of their popularity (The Hazards of Love). Amidst all that weirdness, however, one could always count on the Decemberists to write excellent songs, and to play the living shit out of them, both live and on the record.
What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World dispenses almost entirely with the in-your-face weirdness in favor of the excellent songs and spectacular playing. And while they’ve sanded down the rougher, odder edges of their sound, the band has not in any way abandoned what they do well. The lyrics are more personal, but insightful details and powerful narrative elements abound. There are plenty of instrumental interludes, but the arrangements lead in straight lines down gilded paths of righteousness.
More than anything, though, the pure, uncut songwriting excellence on this album leaves behind an emotion resembling nothing so much as awe. What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World is so affecting in large part because, while partisans always knew this band was good, they maybe didn’t know the band was this good. Uncomfortably grouped with other mid-aughts “indie” darlings in ways that never quite fit, the Decemberists have spent years dynamiting that designation and seeking their own space in the vast popular music universe. With this new album, it appears they may finally have broken through, and not by mainlining the muse until it led them to make an album so hopelessly over-produced, dense, and novelistic few other than their most devoted fans would bother with it. Instead, the Decemberists made an album so focused, so universal, and so open-hearted that anyone should be able to find themselves in it, and be struck dumb at the recognition.
Spectacular songwriting, elegant instrumentation, cohesive album structure, powerful themes, and a seat for everyone at the table: What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World is the Decemberists’ answer to what they’ve been and what they’re supposed to continue to be and mean. And rather than provide any answers to whatever questions, the band simply puts the questions to bed. Tucks them in and kisses them goodnight. They don’t matter anymore. Whether or not you think you like the Decemberists is beside the point. What matters now is this wonderful music, and these fantastic songs. If you like either of those things, then yes, you like the Decemberists, whether you knew that already or not.
Rating: 4.5/5