Expectation is a dangerous thing. Expectation has enabled the worst of albums to careen toward the top of lists and the bottom of charts—for differing reasons. For a band like the Decemberists, there are many reasons for high expectations. This is their first major label release. The Crane Wife, their fourth full length, comes at the heels of (in mine and many critic's reasoning) their best effort, Picaresque. The Decemberists, in fact, seem to have gotten better as time progressed. All of this has created more than buzz for The Crane Wife, and, in fact, I am surprised Capitol didn't bomb a small country as advertising. It seems as ambitious an olive branch to the indie world as a major has been willing to go since Warner decided to continue releasing Built to Spill records.
Then again, what has expectation ever taught us in musical terms? It has taught that, no matter what, music is intended to disappoint. In the most tedious of times, musical endeavors seem to fail—like sport, the best of times come when the laid back and easy zones come in. Comfort often begets the best of sounds. The great thing about Picaresque was not that it the willingness to branch out, it was the sense of nailing the sound that The Decemberists defined over their last few albums and EP's. On The Tain, the EP pre-dating Picaresque, the band seemed dangerously close to overdoing it, but the latter album proved me wrong. The balance, however, shifted. The experimentation was afoot. I expected long songs, and new sounds from The Crane Wife. I expected it, but I decided to clear it from my mind.
Then I listened to the album. I wasn't blown away—not surprisingly. I wasn't really bound to be. As aforementioned, I was ready for the changes and experiments. I just don't like them. I really don't. You see, instead of being sure that their sensibility remains, they've tried to add and polish someone else's. On one particular song, there is a sense that they were stoned and listening to the Who. Another is Pink Floyd. Yet another could reference any number of 1990's rock bands (best personified by Sunny Day Real Estate's J'Nuh—the song was named after the sound their guitars made). Overall, I heard more influence than I wanted, and fewer Decemberists' quirks and peaks than I needed. This doesn't upset me. Change was bound to come—I just think it may not have been the right time to fool with their sound—and actually needed to come.
By the latest listen (just before penning this) I had become hopeful for the future, yet still despondent. I don't recommend The Crane Wife to diehard Decemberists fans, but I wouldn't discount it as a starting point to those who learn about it from their possible newfound major label curiosity. However, I can't help but think (in my overall hopefulness for music in general) that emulating the sounds of former rock heroes will only increase those people to begin enjoying good music on a large scale basis. Say what you will about the motives behind this album—I've hinted at least—it will attract fans. That may reek of sellout to those in charge of the underground cultural elite, but theirs are the expectations of lofty ambitions and punk rock ethos. I don't have it in me. Apparently, neither does The Crane Wife.
Sure, this release is an overall disappointment—to me at least. To be fair, I was expecting too much and then too little. I was both let down and encouraged. That is basically what every major release ends up doing. The surprise of a Decemberists records is long gone, but the hope behind them remains. For a fifth full length, I'd say that has a pretty lofty weight, no? If nothing else, I still expect good things. |