The Decemberists, Picaresque

Picaresque by the Decemberists is a masterpiece of what they do best, which is rather hard to describe. Filled with stories, epic tales about Victorian costermongers, starcrossed lovers, street urchins, Cold War spies and lonely writers, this album is at once full of folk tunes, sea shanties, show tunes, and jangly American indie, recalling The Smiths and the likes of Bonnie Prince Billy at their finest. It's a mishmash of styles, which makes it all sound hauntingly familiar, yet like nothing else you've ever heard.

The distinctiveness of the Decemberists begins and circles around frontman Colin Meloy, with his very distinctive and captivating nasal twang and his obsessions with sailors, chimney sweeps, Morrissey and Victorian England. He's backed up with accordions, violins, double basses and the lovely Chris Funk on guitar. It's a sound you will either love or hate, there seems to be not much in between with this lot. But if you like the sound of Colin's voice, and you like epic ballads and tales of death, ghosts, murder and suicide, then you;ll love this.

Album highlights are many, and include "The Infanta", a swelling ballad about a celebrated infant, being carried by a marvellous procession on the back of an elephant as the crowds cheer. It's a rousing way to start the album, to announce the entrance of the band, and leads immediately into a love song, "We Both go Down Together" which is about a Victorian dandy who has fallen in love with the daughter of a circus performer. Knowing they can never be accepted as a couple, they choose instead to plunge from his balcony to their deaths. It sounds depressing, but it makes you want to sing along. "Eli, The Barrow Boy" is a haunting tale about a costermonger whose beloved dies, and he mourns the fact that he couldn't buy her finery and food and can only push his cart around all day. He dies, and his ghost continues to push his cart around, singing in mourning for his lost love. "The Sporting Life" is a jaunty number about being an athletic failure and seeing the disappointment in your coach, your father and having your girlfriend leave you for "the captain of the other team." "16 Military Wives" is the band's anti-war/anti-Bush song, and it has a pop at Hollywood and celebrities as well. "The Engine Driver" is a moving answer to Glen Campbell's "Wichita Lineman" comparing work on the rails to being a writer.

The centrepiece of the album, however, is the penultimate track, "The Mariner's Revenge Song." Clocking in around 8 minutes long, it's a meandering romp about a man whose mother was widowed when he was a small child. She takes in a rogue who runs up big gambling debts and leaves her dying of consumption, mad and destitute. On her deathbed she begs her son to:

Find him, bind him

Tie him to a pole and break

His fingers to splinters

Drag him to a hole until he

Wakes up naked

Clawing at the ceiling

Of his grave

So he spends the next 15 years on the streets as an urchin plotting revenge. He finally, while working in a church, finds out that the rogue is the first mate on a ship, so he signs on to the crew. The night he plans his revenge, the ship is destroyed by a giant whale, leaving only our hero and the villain alive in the belly of the whale as he tells his tale to his soon-to-be victim. It's magnificent.

While there are a couple of less-than-amazing moments, in particular in the form of the rather dull "The Bagman's Gambit", this is an album that went into my CD player about 18 months ago, and has barely left it since. If you are remotely intrigued by the sound of this review then I recommend it so emphatically, you'll probably find me creepy and a bit mad and run away. So really, go try this album!