The Decemberists - Picaresque

For a night such as this, with the full moon rising in a clear, cold Texas sky, I chose The Decemberists’ newest record, Picaresque to invade my precious headspace. I have long been a Decemberists fan; Castaways and Cutouts, their first LP released just a few years ago, has found a cushioned place among my favorite albums. Colin Meloy deftly, eloquently, beautifully transports his listeners into a world that resembles our own only in its tantamount potential for pain and loveliness. Orphaned chimney sweeps, lonely legionnaires, and long-dead gypsy uncles take center stage in his crafted songs of whimsy and wonder. Picaresque balloons through this world as well, in a dirigible of death and love. We are introduced to new characters - a tragic barrow boy, a sailor bent upon revenge in the belly of a whale, young runaways, et al, their stories told with a blend of charming and grisly, haunting imagery. It’s very fitting then, that “picaresque” is a word used to describe clever rogues and adventurers, for the album is yet another rather literary journey and adventure through Meloy’s imaginative and often Dickensian domain. And while this lyrical approach has been the cause of detraction for some listeners and critics, who claim Meloy’s art is too much like a 19th century British novel and not enough like rock, I find it extremely engaging intellectually as well as moving. For, true to literary tradition, truth shines round and bright like the moon in vagabond hearts within the tangles of lyrics. In “Engine Driver,” a stand-out song, Meloy sings, “I am a writer/Writer of fictions/I am the heart that you call home/And I’ve written pages upon pages/Trying to rid you from my bones…/And if you don’t love me, let me go.” It’s heartbreaking. It’s beautiful.

The Decemberists, Picaresque: A-

Ariele Gentiles is an avid fan of paradox and pretending. And lions, definitely lions.

Posted on April 10, 2005 1:08 PM