The Decemberists are about as great as a band gets. This is, of course, purely subjective. I often find that musical tastes and preferences are more disparate and subject to personal subjectivity than those of movies or literature. Not that musical criticism is irrelevant. I just find it to be of very little use. And I'm even worse at reviewing music than movies. But I'm not really a critic. Hence, this post will be filled with hyperbole and raving.

A few weeks ago, the Decemberists gave us their latest offering, The Crane Wife. Its namesakes, "The Crane Wife 3" and "The Crane Wife 1 & 2" (tracks 1 and 9, respectively), form an epic and evocative narrative. Splitting the story in this fashion is extraordinarily effective (I'm using e-words!) and provides an enquiring curiosity front that is still emotionally effective. This is what the Decemberists do best: overblown, intensely personal narrative. I love it.

This is not to say that The Crane Wife is the band's best effort. I'm still reserving that title for last year's spectacular Picaresque (seriously, check out that site, it has a full MP3 of one of the disc's best tracks, "The Engine Driver).

Some criticize the band, and especially lead vocalist and lyricist Colin Meloy, of being self indulgent. This isn't necessarily untrue. Meloy frequently invokes some of what are his obvious pet themes and settings in many songs. The band's sound is idiosyncratic and often intentionally reminescent of sea chanties. They've been called "pirate music" (source forgotten). But, like my affinity for Quentin Tarantino, when masturbatory art is this fucking awesome, I don't mind. Meloy is a masterful writer of fiction. He often communicates an entire novel's worth of empathy, setting, and plot in the span of a single four minute ballad (check out "O Valencia!" on the new album or "The Soldiering Life" on Her Majesty).

The Decemberists aren't to everyone's taste. I don't understand why, but I can respect that. But you owe yourself to find out if they're for you.