Record Review: The King is Dead (The Decemberists, 2011)

After the prog, epic ambition of 2006’s The Crane Wife and 2009’s The Hazards of Love, The Decemberists have given us a quiet, humble, perfectly pleasant country-folk-rock record with The King is Dead. Whereas the obvious influences on the previous two albums include the likes of Emerson Lake & Palmer, Jethro Tull, and Shirley Collins, the latest effort is more in debt to Neil Young, early R.E.M., and various alt-country acts of the past fifteen years.

This time around, the Portland based band concern themselves less with presenting a sprawling conceptual narrative over the course of several suite-like songs than crafting ten simple tracks that work effectively on their own as well as together. While The Decemberists still explore themes of mortality, nature, and the fragility of human relationships, the songs are not as thematically unified as on the previous couple efforts.

The crunchy, metal-influenced guitars and blues-based organs of The Hazards of Love are replaced with raw acoustic guitars, rustic fiddles, and steel guitars. Guests like Gillian Welch and Peter Buck help fill out the band’s sonic emersion in all forms of Americana. Tracks like “Calamity Song” feature a twangy, resonant guitar sound reminiscent of The Byrds. “Rise to Me,” with its combination of harmonica and pedal steel, would be right at home on a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record from the early ‘70s.

The biggest weak spot on The King is Dead is undoubtedly the preciousness of some of the lyrics. While Colin Meloy’s obsession with mythology, antiquated language, and esoteric literary and cultural references has always bordered on annoying, this time it’s the emotional directness of some of the lines that I find bothersome. I can’t quite go there with Meloy when, on “June Hymn,” he sings: “A barony of ivy in the trees / Expanding out its empire by degrees / And all the branches burst to bloom / Heaven sent this cardinal maroon / To decorate our living room.” Unfortunately, the lack of lyrical depth is accentuated by the record’s sparse musical texture.

In my mind, The King is Dead is a record from a band in transition. The most recent analogue I can think of is probably Wilco’s Sky Blue Sky. Coming after the relentless ambition and innovation of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born, Sky Blue Sky was an album of quiet, comfortable domesticity. I can’t imagine coming back to A King is Dead as much as The Decemberists’ previous two efforts. Nevertheless, in the austere musical winter of January, The King is Dead is a happy diversion.