The Decemberists’ fourth album is a loose concept piece, based around the old Japanese folk tale after which it is named. This is the group’s first record for a major label, Capitol Records no doubt reacting to the popularity of the Arcade Fire by snapping up a similarly quirky bunch of prog-orchestral indie-poppers.
Despite the Portland quintet’s idiosyncratic tendencies, there is a degree of mainstream potential here. The Decemberists’ eccentricity is leavened by a strong sense of melody and songcraft throughout the record, and the ambitious miniature indie-symphonies on The Crane Wife are outnumbered by more straight-up, chiming indie-pop songs.
‘The Crane Wife 1 & 2’ is the album’s mini-epic; too polite to be considered a tour de force perhaps, but taking in an impressive range of moods regardless. Some gentle, finger-picked guitar swells to a crescendo, before moving into a more swinging mid-section. The track’s second half is perhaps the album’s prettiest moment: a tender, C & W-ish lament, with some delightful organ wheezes and a slippery, climactic drum pattern at its conclusion.
Still, this listener found himself most charmed by the shorter, sweeter songs on The Crane Wife. ‘When The War Came’ manages to make a vaguely metallic riff sound as delicate and pretty as a snowflake, mimicking the shape of hard rock rather than its force. Impressively single-minded stuff.