I don't know if all these tales can be tied together like a true "picaresque," but The Decembrists create some intriguing tales throughout this CD. The listener will get to meet, "The Infanta" who "comes on her palanquin," "Eli, The Barrow Boy" doomed to a short unhappy life and the all too true athlete of "The Sporting Life" sums up the emotional turmoil of teen sports better than any song I've heard. Each song tells a little story; some as simple as "From My Own True Love (Lost At Sea) where a few words conveys significant feeling. Others like "The Mariners Revenge Song" have an epic and demented feel Love that accordion-just like a sea shanty!), an offshoot from the Sweeny Todd School of musicals. The melodies are for the most part gentle and create a mood of a forgotten age, but with a modern sensibility. While there is an occasional misfire like "The Bagman's Gambit" with its Smashing Pumpkins sound and tired tale of spies and betrayal, the overall effect is one that will intrigue and lends itself to repeated listening.

There's something so engaging about a well-told story set to well-played music. Colin Meloy and company seemed to have realized this and are working hard to perfect the combination of the two. They come close on Picaresque, an album full of tales of political intrigue, sorrow and loss, and even nautical revenge. Meloy's hyper-literate lyric writing and steampunk sensibilities lend the album a delightfully anachronistic quality; many of the songs sound like the could have been written a century ago. The Decemberists aid this aesthetic with their unusual additions to their instrumentation: one wouldn't be surprised to hear a concertina pop up in any of their songs.

The album has a sense of pomposity without being pretentious. The album's opener, "The Infanta" is a tune that conjures up the image of a grand royal caravan like something out of Aladdin, or the album's centerpiece, "The Mariner's Revenge Song," an epic sea shanty tale of a young man pursuing the wicked sailor who took advantage of his mother, even into the bowels of a whale. There is such earnestness and ambition, not just in the lyrics, but in the songwriting as well. The Decemberists have succeeded in crafting an aesthetic that makes pince-nez glasses and tweed seem cool again. I highly recommend this album by a band who is only getting better.

Rogue's Progress: The Picaresque Experience.

That was the name of a Humanities class that was offered when I was in college. I did not plan to take the class, but I had to know what the word Picaresque meant. So I looked it up and found out.

Almost a decade later, it came rushing back into my consciousness when an album with that word as the title was released. At that point, I hadn't really listened to the band that recorded it. Given what I knew about them, however, the title made perfect sense. I instinctively knew that if there were any band that can depict the adventures of the common and not-so common people who embodied the picaresque experience, it was The Decemberists.

Her Majesty, The Decemberists' second album, set the bar quite high for what one was to expect from this Portland (OR)-based band. Picaresque, which improves upon that excellent previous album, features eleven shining examples of Colin Meloy's intoxicating storytelling, including the two requisite 7-minute plus epics and some vibrant pop songs. Several of the tracks sound like tales from a dusty old anthology that his grandfather read to him as a child.

That is not to say that all of the songs are set in some remote and bygone era. Meloy succeeds magnificently in setting his songs in the pre-industrial European past and in the American present, at sea or on the soccer field. The world is Meloy's canvas.

As expected, and hoped for, Meloy includes a few sea-faring tunes on Picaresque. The sparse and melancholy "From My Own True Love (Lost At Sea)" puts a nautical, rain-swept twist on a classic Motown lyric. This song has a maritime counterpart in the album's showstopper, the Samuel Taylor Coleridge-worthy "The Mariner's Revenge Song". This is one of the most ambitious and fully-realized of Meloy's longer pieces. It covers over 15 years in the life of a young man who swears vengeance on the man whom he blames for bringing about his widowed mother's untimely demise. With the help of his mother's ghostly guidance, he will learn that revenge is both sweet and best served cold. The song is the work of a virtuoso storyteller-cum-songwriter. If you don't like it, then you have no business listening to The Decemberists.

Meloy's trademark vignettes also make a couple of appearances. "The Infanta" starts off the album at a thundering pace, probably not unlike that of the "five score pachyderm" mentioned in the second verse of the song. This song is another example of Meloy at his most masterful, with plenty of $10 words, clever use of alliteration, and picturesque images. "Eli, the Barrow Boy" tells of an ill-fated, corduroy-clad seller of "coal and marigold" who, like Sisyphus, is doomed to eternally push his wheelbarrow into the afterlife. While this song is the opposite of "The Infanta" tempo-wise, I can imagine Ian Anderson singing either of them, whether alone and reserved on acoustic guitar or with shaggy-haired, wild-eyed overkill. (Anyone to whom that sounds like less than a compliment simply isn't aware that Jethro Tull was a pretty darn good band.)

"Eli, the Barrow Boy" is followed by "The Sporting Life". On this song, the mood and tempo of the album completely change. Musically, it sounds like a cross between Iggy Pop's "Lust for Life" and "This Charming Man" by The Smiths. Lyrically, it is told from the point of view of an injured young athlete who lies helplessly on the playing field. His embarrassed coach, father, and girlfriend "condescend to fix on me a frown", all apparently unconcerned about his well-being. This song is unique to the Decemberists catalog, as it is set in present day American suburbia.

However, it is not the only song on Picaresque that takes place in modern or contemporary America. As he had on the previous two efforts, Meloy rolls out his first epic in the middle of the album. "The Bagman's Gambit" is a slow-tempo story of love and espionage. Its mention of documents, microfilm, and Petrograd give it a paranoid Cold War-drama flavor, as does its dramatic climax and cryptic denouement.

"16 Military Wives" is Meloy's most unapologetically political song. He surely speaks for many Bush haters when he says, "And America can, and America can't say no/And America does, if America says it's so/It's so". Finally, "On the Bus Mall" is an endearing, sweetly-sung story of two "kings among runaways", both of whom "learned quick to make a fast buck/In bathrooms and barrooms." Eventually - for the better, it would seem - they "laughed off the quick tricks/The old men with limp d---s".

The remaining songs include the late-80s R.E.M.-ish "We Both Go Down Together" to the gentle, very Shins-y closer, "Of Angels and Angels". One can almost imagine the latter song playing while a janitor sweeps up after a staged performance of its predecessor, "The Mariner's Revenge Song". "The Engine Driver" is the only song about which I can muster any sort of complaint. It is a lovely song, but Meloy gets a bit too formulaic by simply replacing "engine driver" with some other profession in each verse. (A similar complaint could be levied at "Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect" from their first album, and "Red Right Ankle" from Her Majesty.)

It is unlikely that The Decemberists will ever be as cool as a band like Arcade Fire. However, they will always have a group of fans who are interested in the more literary possibilities of rock music. That is not to say that these same fans won't also appreciate power pop, punk, and brooding alternative. But these - more pure, some would argue - forms of popular music will never quite satisfy those who occasionally like to think about and be challenged by what they listen to. (And what's wrong with learning a few new vocabulary words in the process?) Those to whom such a prospect is appealing will find much to savor on the albums and EPs of The Decemberists, and more on Picaresque than any of their previous releases.

i figured it was time to buy a decemberists album, after liking a few songs whenever friends played them for me, and after listening to the 5 songs that repeat on the band's myspace page. i picked this one because it was cheap (used) on amazon. i dig it. there are a few boring songs, but the good ones are REALLY GOOD.

Although I like this band quite a bit (esp. 'The Tain' and 'Crane Wife') I find the rabid fans to be frequently over the top in their praise of the Decemberists. I fully understand the naysayers' complaints that Meloy's voice is annoying and probably even contrived. I still cringe at times and wonder why in the world he decided on the enunciating and phrasing tactics that he utilizes. I'm generally willing to overlook that, however, because I do appreciate their use of colorful and unconventional instrumentation. To claim, as some have, that the Decemberists are lacking talent is simply irrational, forwarded by those who are probably bitter that their favorite acts haven't reached the acceptance level of these outcasts. Maybe that's it! They are bothered by the fact that nerds can be cool. Yeah, their verbosity and pseudo-romanticism can get tiring but to discredit them because of the words they sing is giving way too much credence to the repeated, banal lyrics that have polluted pop music for decades and have catapulted lesser acts to super stardom. To slap the 'derivative!' label on them is also missing the point. There's nothing particularly wrong with being derivative. That's just an inflammatory term used only when trying to discredit an artist. What's wrong with having influences and showcasing them in one's art? Elvis, the Beatles, Zeppelin, Springsteen, Nirvana and Muse are all derivative in one way or another. Is that such a bad thing? In fact precious few acts are truly original. And The Decemberists are insignificant specks when compared the true giants in pop music. I've read some claim they are Tull, Fairport and Steeleye Span ripoffs. If that were the case I'd probably like the Decemberists even more. Truth is they aren't even a twig in the British progressive folk-rock family tree. Those who say otherwise have very little understanding of those other bands' bodies of work and who proceeded them. They're merely trying to make a cheap point hoping that they won't be called on it. Actually I'm amused by both the lovers and haters of this band. They are both full of hyperbole and partially thought out point/counterpoint.