Picaresque — The Decemberists
Kill Rock Stars
2005
Rating:


A picaresque generally follows the exploits of a loveable scoundrel on a journey that, through his encounters with unique characters and perilous situations, comes out on the other side a changed and wiser person. The scoundrel of The Decemberists' "Picareque" is the listener, who encounters engine drivers, military wives, infantry men, Cold War agents and vengeful mariners among others for an album that unfolds like the divine narrative of a previously undiscovered literary classic.

The Decemberists refrain from pompous grandiosity in its startlingly original songs. The orchestrations earn their emotions without manipulation, resulting in a kind of grandeur that staggers with its surprising dynamism rather than making its greatness big and obvious.

Colin Meloy's uniqueness as a lyricist is immediately obvious from opener "The Infanta," which sings praises to a child queen using archaic words like "palanquin" and "chaparrale" to give the song more historical authenticity than "Kingdom of Heaven." From the cliffs of Dover Meloy hears the melody of ELO's "Livin Thing" and, fearing that his parents will never consent to his love with Miranda, he proposes that "We Both Go Down Together." The devastating "Eli, The Barrow Boy" sells "coal and marigolds" from beyond the grave while he pines for his dead beloved. Not one of Belle & Sebastian's "The Stars of Track and Field," the narrator of "The Sporting Life" lies injured and contemplates the disappointment of the crowds knitted brows as the rhythm section ironically echoes Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life." "The Bagman's Gambit" depicts a bit of Cold War love and espionage.

"16 Military Wives" is a witty, fiery protest song worthy of Dylan. Meloy does the math on what war costs: "16 military wives…32 softly focused, brightly colored eyes…17 company men / out of which only 12 will make it back again…15 pristine moderate liberal minds…out of which only seven really even care." One of those military wives may just be the left behind subject of "From My Own True Love (Lost at Sea)." An ominous acoustic guitar and timpani signal her hopes of receiving a letter from her sailor. Meloy finds his own private Idaho "On the Bus Mall" among the gigolos trying to forge a family while wearing Leonard Cohen's famous blue raincoats. Meloy at first romanticizes the prostitute's search for mysterious skin until he admits that "You learned quick to make a fast buck / In bathrooms and barrooms, on dumpsters and heirlooms / We bit our tongues / Sucked our lips into our lungs 'til we were falling / Such was our calling." "The Mariner's Song" feels like a sea shanty thanks to the accordion, mandolin and lyrics about a young man's quest to avenge his mother's death in the belly of a whale.

As remarkable as this songs are, none of them are a patch on "The Engine Driver." Through distance and work ("I'm an engine driver / On a long line," "I'm a county lineman / On the highline"), self-mutilation ("Take my hand for tender"), intergenerational suffering ("There are power lines / In our bloodlines") and possibly reincarnation, the protagonist of Meloy's most accessible and beautiful song attempts to escape the woman who will not love him. In the end he realizes that it's only through writing that he can hope to rid her from his bones. By the time the accordion solo ends, this song rips the heart in two.

Like such picaresque heroes as Huckleberry Finn and Don Quixote, we, the thankful listener, do learn something from Meloy's marvelous characters. We learn of love and loss, of finding happiness in unexpected places. More importantly, we learn that it's possible to write pop songs about something besides walking in the rain, staring at the sun and falling in and out of love.

Posted Sunday, July 3, 2005

Link to this review:
http://filmzeus.pressbin.com/music/the.decemberists/picaresque