I listened to The Decemberists’ new album, “The Hazards of Love,” yesterday.  I expected more of the same, Colin Meloy wailing his Dickensian paeans to 19th century literature, romance and the Ottoman empire.   Colin’s unmistakable voice hearkens to their earlier work, but it’s profoundly clear the group has grown artistically, though “grown” doesn’t quite capture the extent of it.  Not at all.

From the first full opening and title track, “The Hazards of Love”, until its last and fourth reprise sixteen tracks later, I was carried on a story of sound.  Jenny Conlee, singing on about half the tracks in a voice majestic and beautiful, cries, “Gentle leaves, gentle leaves please array a path for me.  The woods are blowing thick and fast around.”  The album’s lyrics are rich with imagery and rhyme, always the strength of the band, but now — now — it’s as if all that came before was just practice for this album.  There are smoky-bar blues riffs here, wailing electric guitars, Joplin-esque caterwauls to love, with acoustic, mild-tempered refrains just to let you catch your breath.  Listening to the album is like reading an intense novel, each song a chapter, a saga, and when it ends you just want to experience it all over again.  This album is epic, it is grand.  Yes, it’s really that good.  I can’t gush enough.  Seldom do I get this excited about music.  Do me a favor, go out and listen.

Also, check out “Hush” by Asobi Seksu (Japanese/American Techno-pop).  And Maximo Park‘s new album (Brit pop with punk roots), which comes out in May.