The Decemberists
The Hazards Of Love

Since the time when, with his nasal and somewhat childlike voice, Professor Colin Meloy crafted refined acoustic watercolors, armed with a guitar and, by his side, a true folk ensemble from another era, we can truly say that some time has passed. The metamorphosis, contained in potential since the beginning but fully manifested for the first time in the decidedly non-interlocutory EP "The Tain", now grows new offshoots that push, once again further, the discourse of research and sonic hybridization of the Montana collective. Sui generis, the jovial and cultured minstrel, dressed in slightly redundant attire, and the group of musician friends have clearly manifested themselves, in unmistakable clarity, as vintage rock stars in tune with pentatonic riffs and watts raised in crowds. This doesn't simply mean that the Decemberists have abandoned their inherent, bucolic rusticity, but that they have integrated it with a dark side as shadowy as it is, at first glance, unimaginable for those who had lived through the fairy-tale exploits of the debut "Castaway And Cutouts".

Since time is money, but the reader's understanding is even more fundamental, we will try here to make a quick introductory summary of the work under consideration. "Picaresque" was pop/folk adorned with instrumentation and set free to run breathlessly through the poetic inspiration pampas of leader Meloy: "The Crane Wife" presented further evolutions, mixing enchanting ballads of voice and guitar with complex arrangements, echoes of college rock, heavy guitars, and dynamic frameworks (it's not an oxymoron, despite everything) prog-folk, with a couple of occasions winking at Jethro Tull. "The Hazards Of Love," released last spring, is, naturally, the latest step of a spiral staircase with an increasingly laborious approach and, by the band's own admission, a true rock-opera with all the trimmings. It wasn't hard to predict a landing on these shores, although it was difficult to place it in a purely temporal perspective. The Decemberists, however, truly dare a lot, building a fairy tale for the New Millennium, a reinterpretation ad maiora of a technological Snow White, here called Margaret, who falls in love with the faun William: a liaison, of course, hindered by the mother, Queen of the Forests, and her bloodthirsty henchman, known as Mascalzone (a more or less faithful translation of "rake"), complete with a tragic end - but I didn't reveal it out of bastardization: in this regard, the title of the last track is eloquent -. An hour divided into various acts, with scenarios of different scenic and sonic texture, interludes, bridges between songs, reprises, and, as any good opera worthy of respect, different voices interpreting the characters that alternate in the story. Besides Meloy, engaged here in giving voice to William and the Rake, the Decemberists seek help from Becky Stark of Lavender Diamond (Margaret), the fascinating Shara Worden, one-woman-band of My Brightest Diamond (Queen), and Jim James of My Morning Jacket.

Having exhausted the prolix obligatory premises, it is nevertheless necessary to establish, as a fixed point of the review, the awareness of only sporadically, and never completely, finding the band of the early steps of the early 2000s. The turn towards an omnivorous and cinematic pluristylistic and multilingual approach is clear and sufficiently unsettling even for the most open-minded, if it is true that the windmill of moods and indications should suggest, as a primary purpose, pure and simple visual evocation. If you can understand and extract Meloy's lyrical imagery from the context, which sometimes uses quite refined English, if not downright Elizabethan, following the story will become even more engaging and will not fail to generate some thrills in the darker and gloomy moments.

The enormous solidity of "The Hazards Of Love" is due, first and foremost, to the instrumental grace of the group, never on such high levels. Reduced to a minimum are the singer-songwriter interludes, which nonetheless make their crucial importance felt, as in "Isn't It A Lovely Night?", a wonderful madrigal taken by the hand by the accordion, and in "Annan Water", a haunting folk with an intensely powerful text that stands out as the album's peak, the Decemberists decide to focus not on the accumulation of individual songs, but on the logical thread that binds them, playing with the brief interstice spaces (the banjo in "The Queen's Approach"), with instrumentals as brief as they are rich in content and impact (the elegiac fingerpicking of "An Interlude") or with an infinite series of changes in tempo and melody, as happens in the double "The Wanting Comes In Waves / Repaid", initially carved and baroque under harpsichord accompaniment, then transposed into muscular hard-rock - just to allow an aggressive Worden to enter - and finally brought back on the initial tracks. It should not be surprising at all the intertwining of episodes at the edge of metal ("The Queen's Rebuke / The Crossing", or the Queen's final plan to prevent the marriage between the two protagonists, Black Sabbath with a Blue Cheer sauce and a triumph of keyboards), even if the effect is sometimes too monotonous to conquer (the single "The Rake's Song", insistent but with minimal variations: what remains, beyond everything, is the ruthless homicidal tale of the Rake, worth listening to).

The numerous acoustic excursions once again demonstrate, however, what the songwriting of Colin Meloy is made of, surely among the very first places among the best authors of his generation if not, indeed, at the top, as far as neo-folk (?) of the 2000s is concerned. "Annan Water" - yes, I mention it again - is truly overwhelming, an invocation to the waters of the river to allow the meeting of the two lovers, strong with an essential yet incredible guitar loop. "The Hazards Of Love 1 (The Prettiest Whistles Won't Wrestle The Thistles Undone)", a lengthy beginning to the saga (if we exclude the organ "Prelude") has its strength in its simplicity, only slightly embellished by bluesy frills: the same goes for the college rock of "Won't Want For Love (Margaret In The Taiga)", the love dedication of "The Hazards Of Love 2 (Wager All)", based on gradual superimpositions of voices and guitars, and "The Hazards Of Love 3 (Revenge!)", a waltz interpreted by a children's choir that rests on the reprise of the "Wanting Comes In Waves" theme.

The conclusion, unexpectedly, with "The Hazards Of Love 4 (The Drowned)", a heartfelt return to the origins of minimal ballads, complete with violin, is the most effective farewell for a record that will inevitably mark a point of no return for the Decemberists. Reading reviews here and there on the Internet, what was feared has occurred: the split, almost perfect, between detractors and admirers. You choose which side to be on: whether with the group that created "The Legionnaire's Lament" or with the architects of the nervous frays of "A Bower Scene". Whether with the acoustic guitar or the electric one, with the songs or with the suites, with the immediacy or with the elaboration.

In all probability, it has not been understood that one does not exclude the other.

"And take my hand
And cradle it in your hand
And take my hand
To feel the pull of quicksand

I lay you down
In clover bed
The stars a roof
Above our heads"